The Boomslang Thief and the Best Revenge
by RainCityWriter
Summary: This is a sequel to The Boomslang Thief, and another murder mystery.  When someone of import is found murdered, all eyes again go to Harry Potter, the last person to see her alive.  Will Snape be able to clear his name this time?  How does Harry cope with the revenge he wants to take?  Warnings:  AU, spanking (cp) of teenagers, death of a major character.
1. Chapter 1 - Set Up

_AN: Welcome (back) to the world of the Boomslang thief. I had not planned on publishing until after the holidays, but changed my mind and wanted to put a few chapters up to get some feedback. Just as a refresher: in the first book, Snape investigated the murder of a Durmstrang student during the tri-wizard tournament, exonerating Harry and finding the real culprit. In exchange, the trio confessed to the theft of his boomslang and were punished for it. In the process of the investigation Harry and Snape developed somewhat of a rapport, and Snape discovered that Harry had been abused at the Dursley's home. Snape promised he didn't have to go back, but then Dumbledore said that he had to in order to satisfy the magic. Snape had threatened to kidnap Harry and take him to Durmstrang, and as a compromise Harry would have to return to the Dursleys but have someone else with him at all times – starting with Snape and then moving onto other wizards, including the Weasley twins. This story will tell the story of the summer interwoven with the present story unfolding._

 _I also wanted to say that in a lot of ways this is also going to be a deeply personal story, in that I have struggled with how to handle the family members that hurt me so much in my childhood. I have gone through periods of time where I did want revenge on them, and then grown to understand that you don't have to seek revenge for revenge to happen. I have read and thoroughly enjoyed fanfic stories exploring all of the creative and utterly deserved vengeance dished out either by Harry or on Harry's behalf to the Dursleys, and honestly some of it is so well done I have nothing left to add. So in this story I want to explore a different sort of revenge, and one that has definitely shaped my adult life._

 _As always, I love interactions with my readers and welcome comments, corrections, criticisms, and ideas. Interacting with people is my favorite part of writing fanfiction. Abusive and immature posts, however, will be summarily deleted._

 _Disclaimer: There will be corporal punishment in this story, and I will not warn you about it ahead of time. If you are uncomfortable with this, stop reading now. Also, I call Delores Umbridge's instrument of torture a Black Quill instead of a Blood Quill because that's what the Harry Potter wiki calls it. I got some unhappy comments on a previous story with calling it a Black Quill, please know that that was a conscious choice (though if you must still correct me, that is your right). There is a major character death that is not in canon, so it's safe to say that this story is AU, but my best effort at keeping with the original characters just with some changed circumstances. And finally, I am not JK Rowling and do not intend to become her at any point in this story._

* * *

Harry looked from the inert form of his most hated professor to the standing form of his formerly hated professor and clutched the desk to remain standing. Then he realized that his hand was close to the blood-spattered tweed and he gasped audibly. He felt as if he couldn't breathe and the room began to swim.

"Go to my office now," Snape told him firmly, his voice stern but not harsh. "Say nothing to anybody until I am there."

Harry, feeling that speech was beyond him at the moment, obeyed woodenly. He couldn't even think about how to get to Snape's office, but his feet somehow found their way there. With practiced motion, he placed his palm on the door and it admitted him, recognizing his magical signature. Had it just been the night before that he had snuck down near curfew to ask Snape a question on his Potions homework? With his easy admittance it made it easier not to get caught, and Snape was used to receiving a visit from him at least a few times a week.

But now this was so different. There was no cheery fire and tea ordered for him so he could sit on a stuffed chair and chat amidst the surrounding potions debris, but rather a cold and empty office. And all he could see was Delores Umbridge's eyes – staring, empty and quite dead. He raced to the sink as his stomach violently emptied itself of its contents.

When Snape arrived back in his office, his eyes quickly took in the scene. He saw Harry curled up in a ball on the floor, his arms wrapped around his legs and rocking slightly. A befuddled Auror was trying to ask him questions, and seemed unable to get any response from the lad.

"If you want to interview him, I would suggest Auror Shacklebolt," Snape told him. "Mr. Potter has met him before, and he is far more likely to be able to question him. Or, at least to get some answers to those questions."

"He's busy with the, well, with the body," the auror answered with a bit of pretention in his voice.

"I would think the prime witness might allow for some shuffling around," Snape answered coolly.

"Don't you mean the prime suspect?" the auror answered.

"No, I mean witness," Snape repeated sternly. "Is that you, Andy Wiggleweld? I'm surprised they have made you an investigator so early. Apparently proficiency in potions is not necessary."

"I have improved," the auror answered, blushing and hating that he sounded like the schoolboy he was once again.

"That is good to hear," Snape nodded. "Now fetch Shacklebolt before I feel inclined to start subtracting points from Hufflepuff."

"But . . . I'm not even a student!" he protested. "That's unfair!"

"Indeed, it is," Snape answered somberly. "I hope your former house will not suffer too much based on your obstinacy."

With a huff and the body motions that he had used when reprimanded as a third year, Auror Wiggleweld left the room to fetch Shacklebolt.

"Quick Harry, we only have a moment," Snape whispered. "What happened?"

For a moment Snape worried that the boy wouldn't answer, that he was indeed in such a state of shock that words couldn't form. But he saw that Harry was able to shake his body a bit at Snape's command and looked at him.

"I walked in to the room and she was like that," Harry answered.

"Good," Snape answered.

"They're still going to think it's me," Harry answered with something near a sob.

"Why is that?"

In answer, Harry just held out his hand where livid words stood out on the back of his hand in cruel relief.

"The black quill," Snape breathed, hardly believing what he saw. "She did that to you?"

"It was the third time," Harry answered miserably. "It's what she does if you say things in class she doesn't like."

"Why ever did you not tell me? Or Dumbledore?" Snape hissed at him in anger. "Or even your bloody head of house?"

"McGonagall told me to keep my head down," Harry answered miserably, near tears. "And Dumbledore was already having trouble with her, I didn't want him sacked as well. I thought the best thing was to just endure it."

"I know you were abused at your last home, Harry, but this is ridiculous," Snape snapped at him while keeping his voice down. His mind put together seemingly innocent gestures and specific movements of Harry's hand when they'd been together, which Snape now realized was Harry hiding his hand from Snape's view. "You actively lied to me and hid this abuse! Were you not in this scrape I would be tempted to put you over my desk for such cheek in concealing this."

"She was alive when I left the room," Harry told him, nearing sobs. "I came back just twenty minutes later because I'd realized that I forgot my bag, and there she was . . ."

"Calm yourself and think," Snape ordered brusquely. "Shacklebolt will be here soon and any memory he has is subject to pensieve. So be very careful what you say."

"I am innocent," Harry looked up into Snape's eyes plaintively. "Please, sir, what do I need to be careful about?"

Before Snape could answer some snarky comment about how innocents get jailed regularly when the imposing form of Kingsley Shacklebolt entered the room in his richly colored robes.

"Gentlemen," he greeted them. "I understand that my presence has been requested for the interrogation."

"Indeed, the lad is quite frightened," Snape told him. "I thought because he had met you before that he would be more comfortable talking to you. But he is a bit shaken, so even that might be hard."

"Frightened, is he?" Shacklebolt asked with some degree of skepticism. Shaklebolt knew this was an act, that he was playing along with Snape to present Harry in the most sympathetic light possible.

"I imagine is was quite frightening to find your professor dead," Snape told him. "Let's see if he can tell us what he saw."

"I had detention with her earlier," Harry sniffed, looking pathetic. Snape relaxed a bit inwardly – it would take a harsh person indeed to condemn the boy when he looked like this. If he had been defiant and angry it would have been much worse. "I forgot my bag because, well, because my hand hurt so much. I was coming back to fetch it."

"You had the strap then?" Shacklebolt asked curiously. It was very unusual for a teacher to apply the strap to a student's hand, but not unheard of. Dumbledore had discouraged the practice, but from what Shacklebolt knew of Umbridge he wouldn't be surprised. "I had it myself a few time as a lad. It smarts."

"Not the strap," Harry told him. "It was a quill. It used my blood as ink and carved the letters in the back of my hand."

"A black quill at Hogwarts?" the normally composed auror asked in surprise. "Show me your hand."

Harry held out his injured hand, and felt the auror gently hold it and examine the cuts on it. "That looks quite painful," he sympathized with the boy. "What were you lying about?"

"I didn't lie," Harry told him. "This was the third time she did it, and for each time it was the same reason. I refuse to say that Voldemort is dead and insist he's alive. I have also requested better defense classes."

"Does Dumbledore know about this?" the auror asked gently, knowing a harsh question could spook the boy but hardly being able to hold down his anger at such blatent child abuse.

"I didn't tell anyone but my friends," Harry replied. "Hermione helped me with a potion."

"Which one?" Snape asked sharply.

"Not sure," Harry hedged, remembering where it had been pilfered from. "I believe Murtlap or something."

"Tell me the complete truth," Snape told him. "Do not hedge or dodge. Any snitching of ingredients is of no importance now."

"We, er, procured some pickled Murtlap," Harry confessed. "And I was just getting ready to soak my hand in it when I remembered my bag. I, er, didn't want Professor Umbridge to retire before I could get my homework so I went back to fetch it."

"Were there any witnesses to your whereabouts between the detention and your return?" Shacklebolt asked.

"No," Harry told them.

"There are numerous portraits between there and your common room," Snape informed him with a gimlet eye. "Why did they not see you?"

"I was, well, I may have cried a bit," Harry admitted. "It really hurt this time, worse than others. I didn't want anyone to see me, so I used my invisibility cloak. I snuck in when Dean Thomas went through the opening, then crept up for the Murtlap."

"And you returned the same way?" Snape pressed.

"I did," Harry admitted. "You see, it was getting close to curfew . . ."

"You have a very unfortunate alibi," Shacklebolt told him.

"I didn't know I would need one," Harry replied miserably.

"And plenty of motive for killing professor Umbridge," Shacklebolt continued.

"What motive?" Harry squeaked. "Wouldn't I have been better off doing it before she cut my hand up?"

"Revenge is often a crime of passion," Shacklebolt told him. "Not reason."

"Killing her would not have been the best revenge," Harry told him with a wry smile. "Professor Snape taught me that."

"Tell me what he taught you about revenge," Shacklebolt told him. "It would be helpful for me to know everything."

"Everything?" Harry echoed. "Are you sure?"

"Everything," Shacklebolt confirmed.

"It's a bit embarrassing," Harry told him. "It has to do with Professor Snape punishing me for getting revenge on the Dursleys."

"This is a murder investigation," Snape told him. "If you are anything but completely honest with the auror I will happily demonstrate in front of him the precursor to our conversation about revenge. I believe I still have that slipper handy."

Harry paled, believing Snape. "I'll tell," he agreed. "But this is hard enough as it is, so can I tell the whole story and answer questions after? I might lose the nerve if I'm interrupted."

"Go ahead," Shacklebolt agreed. "I won't interrupt."


	2. Chapter 2 - Pranking the Dursleys

Harry waited for Snape in his tiny bedroom, nervous and unsure. Snape had appeared to escort George back to the burrow, and had promised Harry that he would return shortly. The way he said it made Harry squirm, and he suddenly regretted everything that had happened that morning. After the morning pranks the Dursleys had called Snape, Petunia's frustration with her ward finally overriding her fear of magical people. Harry and George had talked about it the night before – how was the best way to get revenge? Harry had felt a few twinges of anxiety thinking about doing what Snape had explicitly forbidden, but he found it just too much of a temptation. And so the prank war began – though even Harry had to admit the pranks were pretty mean-spirited.

Harry and George started the afternoon by making sure Dudley saw them hide candy in the kitchen cupboard and then leave the room. Dudley had thought he had been crafty in how he had snuck in the kitchen while his mother watched the stories on TV and stole the bag. He didn't give a second thought to the jelly beans, and set about to enjoy a nice chocolate flavored one. Soon, he was spitting earthworm flavored bean across the room. Then, deciding on trying another candy, quickly scoffed a delicious looking pastille. A half-hour later he had finally emptied everything in his stomach and felt like he could breathe again.

"Those were one of our strongest formulations of puking pastilles," George had laughed at Harry. "We couldn't sell them because being that sick is worse than being in class."

Dudley wisely didn't let his mother know because she would lecture him about eating nasty things that Harry may have brought home from that nasty school, but he began to give the two young wizards some space. They decided that their next target was Uncle Vernon, and then Petunia would be after that. Harry didn't really want to provoke his Uncle, so they started subtly. His milk curdled every time it landed in his tea, and the butter on his toast tasted oddly sour. Every pair of socks in his drawer had at least one hole in them, as if moths had been eating the fibers. His toothpaste had somehow gone bad overnight, and the resulting lumpy paste tasted suspiciously of turpentine. Two buttons flew off his shirt when he buttoned it, and his sweater caught on something and unraveled one of the arms quite dramatically. Uncle Vernon had left for the office with a peck to his wife and a glare at Harry and George, sure that they were behind his terrible morning but not wanting to discuss the "M" word, especially with that strange red-headed chap that seemed to be babysitting the freak. He had just turned towards the car when Petunia shrieked as his hair turned a brilliant color of pink. Barely keeping his anger in check, Vernon had put on his hat and stomped out the door. These minor annoyances were not enough to make him contact that strange man in black clothes, but he would stew on what else he could do to the boy without bringing down his defenders.

"Change it back," Petunia ordered the two magical teenagers.

"It looks much nicer now, ma'am," George laughed.

"Now," Petunia insisted, so George flicked his wand in response, eliciting a yelp from Mr. Dursley that could be heard inside the house.

The boys giggled again, and Dudley looked at them in horror, remembering the pig's tail that Hagrid had given him.

"Oink, oink," Harry laughed at him, realizing what Dudley must be thinking about. Dudley paled and walked sideways out of the room, keeping his backside out of view of the teenaged wizards.

"This has to stop," Petunia told the two boys, crossing her arms in front of her. "I am not going to put up with these shenanigans. It stops now."

Harry paled a bit at this, and George saw the fear reaction and so acted on it.

"It sucks that he's not the little boy hiding in the cupboard, isn't it?" George smirked at her. "It must feel hard that you have so little power."

"That is enough of that cheek," Petunia snapped at him. "Both of you to your room and no lunch for either of you."

"We have plenty of food stored up from my mother," George told her easily. "Don't think you can starve us."

Harry had seen George just being flippant and disrespectful, but the threat of food made him feel empty and hollow inside. Every cell in his body was screaming that he wasn't safe and if he didn't make it up to Petunia at that moment bad things were going to happen. He began to panic, and not even hear George make a few more flippant remarks as he headed upstairs. Harry just followed, trying to breathe properly and not unleash accidental magic.

Dudley came in front of them, deciding that he wasn't going to get cursed with a tail if these boys could be scared by his mother.

"Looks like the big bad wizards got sent to their room," he snarled at them. "Poor little dears, did mummy scold you?"

"Leave off," George told him firmly, not one to be intimidated by a brother-like person.

Later, Harry would wonder what possessed him to say what he would say to Dudley now. Perhaps it was a false bravado raised by George, perhaps it was frustration with years of Dudley always winning. But he also knew how to hurt Dudley, and when he was honest with himself he knew this was the real reason. "How's that potion working for you, Piggie?" Harry snapped. "Can you fit into your uniform yet, lard-ass?"

Dudley snarled his response and raised his fist at Harry, but was hit with a tangled mess of underaged wizard. George, not to be outdone for long, quickly joined the fray and between the two of them they soon had Dudley pinned. Harry had gotten in a few punches, with very little strength really behind them, but soon the air was filled with Petunia's shrieks and screams that her poor Duddems was being massacred by criminal freaks. Harry hardly knew what happened next, except he found himself pulled off of Dudley and, his fists still trying to punch, shoved into his room. Apparently Petunia had been given some sort of panic button that would suck him and George into their room, and Harry suspected it would call reinforcements. He suddenly felt very conscious of the warnings that Professor Snape had given him when he had left just last week and how he expected Harry to comport himself with manners and control. Somehow he didn't think that Professor Snape would think what he just did with Dudley would qualify as mannerly.

"What do you think is going to happen?" George asked Harry quietly.

"Professor Snape," Harry answered with surety and trepidation. "And I suspect he will not be happy."

"But you know, they were kind of being jerks," George defended. "And of course all the stuff they did to you before."

"Doesn't matter," Harry told him miserably. "I insulted and then attacked him. Snape's not going to like that, let alone the planned pranks."

They didn't have to wait for long.

"Mr. Weasley," they heard Snape snap before he even came in the room. "I am going to apparate you to your home directly. Mr. Potter, wait for me here."

"Yes, sir," Harry answered quietly, squirming at the professor's glare.

Snape took George firmly by the arm and they disappeared in a swirl of apparition. Seconds ticked by as they were gone, and Harry wasn't sure if he wanted Snape to return or not, he had a very bad feeling on where this conversation was going to go.

Harry jumped as Snape apparated back, and found himself unable to look the man in his face. He found his toes much more interesting. Was the man going to bend him over the bed and bring out his paddle?

"Would you like to explain why you played mean pranks, were disrespectful to your aunt and attacked your cousin?" Snape asked. "But be warned, I have already seen it."

Harry gulped. "We probably should have been nicer," he conceded.

"You also referenced the offer I gave them when we agreed to the parameters of this summer," Snape told him. "Specifically your cousin's weight."

Harry squirmed even more. "He deserves it."

"I see," Snape answered. "So my offering to help cure a metabolic problem that he obviously has in exchange for your continued residence here made you upset."

"I wanted you to punish them!" Harry protested, surprisingly finding himself close to tears. "Not give them everything they wanted!"

Snape sighed, sitting on the bed. "I did punish them, don't you see?" he said quietly. "I had told you that I cast the eyes for eye charm on each of them."

"I don't really know what that is," Harry confessed, desperately trying not to cry.

"It's an anti-bullying charm," Snape explained. "It gives the abuser twice what they give their victim. So every punch or welt with a belt is automatically applied double to the abuser. I also, well, gave a bit of a demonstration with your uncle in that he received double of the last beating he gave you."

"Oh," Harry replied, shocked. The last beating had been a brutal one. Is that why his Uncle had stayed in his room for a few days after Harry arrived? He thought he had been upset that Harry was there. "That must have hurt."

"I'm sure it did," Snape nodded. "And they know all future physical abuse by any of the three of them will result in triggering the spell. But they were also concerned about protecting themselves, so we worked out a solution where she could make you go to your room and I would be called."

"Why are they scared?" Harry asked, surly. "They've had years of practice in bossing me around."

"Harry, did you study World War II in school before you came to Hogwarts?" Snape asked him.

"A little," Harry admitted. School before Hogwarts was a little hazy – it was more about keeping away from Dudley than learning anything.

"In World War I the victors wanted to punish the German people for the chaos and death they caused," Snape explained. "They ended up being so harsh to the country that it essentially caused World War II. You can punish people, Harry, but you need to make sure they have something to hope for as well."

"So making the walrus a bit smaller is payment?" Harry asked angrily. "Shouldn't he just diet better?"

Snape sighed. "You have been infected with muggle stereotypes. Why is it that people ascribe everything about you – from your horrendous hair to your glasses, eye color, and even Quidditch ability to genetics you inherited from your parents and your cousin's weight is seen as a moral failing? Do you think he has any more say about his weight than you do about your eyeglasses?"

"But he eats more than me . . ."

"Undoubtedly," Snape answered. "He's allowed to and you weren't. You would be a little larger if you had been allowed to eat more, but would you be as large as your cousin? Can you argue that he eats any more than those infernal Weasley children?"

Harry suddenly realized that no, Ron ate just as much as Dudley. Then why was Dudley so much bigger?

"He has a metabolic issue," Snape told him, answering his unasked question. "And I offered them a yearly dose of a potion that will fix it. The fix will be permanent after four doses over four years. He should gradually lose weight until his weight reaches a healthier level. If they allow you to stay until you are of age, I have agreed to provide the remedy to Mr. Vernon Dudley as well. This is the carrot and the stick, Mr. Potter."

"So they get what they want," Harry acknowledged, his voice still frustrated. "It doesn't matter what they've done to me."

"It matters a great deal," Snape told him carefully. "But let me tell you now; this type of revenge that you think you want will not make you happy. This is not the best revenge."

"What's the best revenge?" Harry asked, not believing.

"We will discuss that another time," Snape told him, his voice becoming austere. "I think you wouldn't believe me now if I told you. But also in your seeking revenge you went explicitly against the instructions that I gave you. So I believe we will move on to the subject of your direct disobedience."

Harry swallowed, feeling his muscles tense. He did not like Snape's tone. "I didn't mean to disobey," Harry replied softly.

"I believe I told you to act respectfully towards the Dursleys," Snape told him. "Did I not?"

"You did," Harry glumly agreed. "No matter how badly they treated me before."

"That's right," Snape nodded. "And I believe I made the consequences also clear, did I not?"

"You did," Harry squirmed. He had not liked the sound of where this was going. "But I wasn't that bad, really."

"Harry," Snape said in a deadly calm tone. "What you have done could be called muggle baiting. You and George used your magic to tease and harm muggles. Then you were incredibly insulting and then physically assaulted your cousin. It doesn't matter that he has assaulted you in the past, this time it was you who did it."

"He lifted his hand to punch me!" Harry protested.

"And if he had he would have immediately experienced a blow twice as strong," Snape reminded him. "But instead you attacked him. I had to perform healing charms on him, or your Uncle would have come home to his son having a black eye and a split lip. How long do you think you would have been allowed to stay if that had been the case?"

Harry looked away, suddenly feeling ashamed. He had had so many years of the Dursleys beating up on him that it was an entirely different feeling to have himself be the aggressor. "He wouldn't have let me stay," Harry answered quietly.

"And so I fixed him, with your aunt's permission," Snape answered. "I believe my treating her son for his metabolic issue is one of her main motivations."

"Of course it's about Dudley," Harry mumbled darkly.

"And so I'm going to punish you, as I had warned you I would," Snape told him firmly, ignoring the mumbles that Snape heard perfectly well.

"The paddle, then?" Harry asked, trying to sound confident but his question had a definite tremble to it. He'd had the paddle before, and it hadn't killed him. At least it had been better than Uncle Vernon's punishments.

"The slipper," Snape answered. "And you will be over my knee. This is a domestic issue, and should have a domestic consequence. The paddle should be reserved for the most heinous offenses."

Harry blushed at this pronouncement, not sure how to respond. "Isn't that, well, sort of, more of a family punishment?" Harry asked. "I mean, it seems . . . childish."

"And that's exactly what you were," Snape told him firmly. "Childish. Let me see, it's probably best if I'm sitting on the bed. Get up and then I'll sit."

Harry reluctantly got up from the bed, trying to find a way to protest or to stop this from happening. He felt more reluctance than the time Snape took a cane to him or even the paddle, even though this punishment was objectively supposed to hurt a lot less. He knew that Ron got the slipper from his father on occasion – and he knew that while it stung it didn't hurt more than an hour or two. And the way Ron had talked about the paddling since it happened, he knew that had been the worst physical punishment that he had ever received, so the slipper had to be much less. But the reluctance lingered and intensified with thinking of Ron. Was that the problem? Did it feel weird to have Snape acting, well, like a Dad?

"Sir, I think, well, I think I might rather have the paddle," Harry told him with a pounding heart as he watched his professor settling comfortably on the bed.

* * *

 _AN: This chapter seems to break in an odd place, but I felt like it works to emphasize the emotional place Harry's in right now. I'm going to try really hard to get the next chapter up tomorrow because I'm leaving on vacation after that and won't be able to update until January. Thank you so much for the amazing comments! It's one of my favorite parts of writing._


	3. Chapter 3 - The Slipper

_"Sir, I think, well, I think I might rather have the paddle," Harry told him with a pounding heart as he watched his professor settling comfortably on the bed._

"Why?" Snape asked, his eyes narrowing. "Surely you know that the slipper is a less harsh punishment."

"Less painful, from what Ron tells me, sir," Harry agreed politely. "It's how his father punishes him."

"I see," Snape answered, his face shrewd and bitter. "You don't want the bat of the dungeons acting like a father to you. You would rather have more pain then have to bend over his lap."

"No, not at all, sir," Harry replied, paling at the bitterness in Snape's speech. "Please sir, I haven't hated you in ages. How could I think that after everything you've done for me?"

"I believe I've blistered your behind is what I've done," Snape snapped, sarcasm in his tone.

"And saved me," Harry answered with such homey honesty that Snape could have no choice but to believe him. "Nobody's ever done that for me before like that. And when I hit you and you were s'posed to cane me, well, you made it not hurt. And when you did punish us for the Boomslang skin, well, it certainly hurt but you were very decent about it. And for the past several months you've let me visit you whenever I wanted to. How could you think I hate you?"

"Then explain why you are now asking for a paddling," Snape ordered, his eyes glittering. "You tempt me to grant your wish."

"I can't explain," Harry answered, embarrassed at finding himself close to tears before the first swat had even landed.

"Is it the slipper that you object to or bending over my lap?" Snape asked, finding his own anger subsiding and deciding to engage the boy on whatever was confusing him.

"Your lap," Harry admitted, shamefaced.

"I see," Snape said. "Some children do find it embarrassing."

"It's not that," Harry answered. "I have a feeling it's going to be embarrassing either way."

"Then what is it, Harry?" Snape asked.

Harry looked at Snape, not wanting to answer but feeling compelled to do so. If Snape had seemed snarky or stern in his question, Harry would not have had the courage to answer him. But Snape had used a tone of real concern, as well as calling him by his first name. It made Harry feel like he could actually explain.

"When I looked into the mirror of Erised in the first year I saw my parents," Harry explained. "I think if I looked now I might see me as part of Ron's family. The more I've gotten to know them, the more I've wished I could have a family like him. And his father touches him, and his mom and brothers too. They touch him to wrestle, to hug, to tussle around, and yes to punish him. I'm worried that if you touched me that way, well, it just feels safer to not to do it."

"I see," Snape nodded soberly. "You're afraid that me touching you will make you feel something that you don't want to feel."

"You understand," Harry gratefully told him.

"I do," Snape nodded. "But Harry, I want to be clear about this. The family that you want, that you long for so desperately, this is something that you can have."

"Not really," Harry told him, looking down. "I mean, sure, the Weasleys are nice to me and all; nicer than anybody else really. But I'm not really their son."

"Tell that to Molly," Snape smirked. "When I dropped off George she questioned me thoroughly on the situation and made me promise to use nothing harsher than the slipper on you."

"But she let you go to punish me," Harry told him, though he smiled a bit at her defense of him. He could just picture the frumpy, loving but stern mother taking on the gaunt bat of the dungeon to protect someone she considered one of hers. "She didn't send Mr. Weasley."

"He offered," Snape admitted. "But I told them it should be me."

Harry felt his heart warm at Mrs. Weasley's care for him. Did he really have family?

"I think that your ability to receive love is hampering your having a family," Snape told him. He felt a twinge of conscience in saying so, knowing that it was his own inability to receive love that blocked him from having family and intimate friends. He and Harry were more alike than he had realized. "But I will give you a choice. I am going to use a slipper on you, but I will give you the choice of bending over the bed or my lap. I recommend my lap, however, as it restricts my swing a bit and makes for a less painful stroke. It is also . . . reassuring to have some comfort during your punishment. However, if you feel that you are unable to do so, I will allow you to bend over the bed instead."

"My trousers . . ." Harry asked, hesitating. He had heard that the slipper was often applied to bare skin.

"Since I am not your father and you are not a young child, I will use the charm that will amplify the slipper to the point where it feels to you as if your clothed bottom is bare."

Harry blushed, but felt grateful. He wasn't sure he could stand the shame of baring his bottom to be spanked like some three-year-old.

"I feel like I should choose bending over the bed," Harry confessed, eyeing his professor's lap and the side of the bed.

"But you are conflicted," Snape nodded. "I understand. Are you sure about your choice?"

Harry was anything but sure. Part of his heart wanted so desperately to trust Snape in this, in believing him that he could have family, in accepting a family punishment from him as Ron accepted from his dad. But how could he make that choice after years of having to protect himself? Wasn't he too old to have a family like this anyways?

. . .

Harry paused there, not daring to look up at Kingsley Shacklebolt and Snape, whom he knew had been listening to him intently. He blushed as he realized he had just been talking and reliving that encounter with Snape, and had not realized how honest he had been with the auror. He still didn't know exactly how he had felt about that conversation with Snape, and so recounting it in front of him suddenly felt very vulnerable.

"What happened then?" Shacklebolt asked, trying to keep his voice professional but his eyes communicated his interest.

"I bent over the bed and Professor Snape surely made me regret my earlier choices," Harry answered in a small voice. "The slipper doesn't hurt as much as the paddle, but I can see why Ron talks about it like he does. At first you think, okay, it's not to bad, I can take this. And then it just builds up to the point that your ar . . . backside is on fire."

"And did that convince you never to seek revenge?" Shacklebolt pressed.

"Yes and no," Harry answered truthfully. "I don't think a spanking could really change my mind if it was something I was sure about. Though I told you the story to show you how much I would never want to be in that position again."

"I understand," Shacklebolt nodded. "I think perhaps I understand that part."

"And then it was what the Professor said afterwards that really made me not want to take revenge," Harry admitted, still looking down.

"And what was that?" Shacklebolt asked, intrigued. How could words change a person so much more than what he imagined was a painful punishment?

. . .

Snape, satisfied that the lad had been thoroughly punished, tucked the leather insole of a slipper back into his robe pocket and conjured a chair to sit upon. He had honestly been hesitant to punish Harry after what he knew his background, but he also knew the political implications if he didn't do it. Was it worth a smacking to Harry for him to remain in a place that he would be ostensibly safe but emotionally on edge? Was the blood magic worth it? And then he found himself surprised that Harry didn't remain still and silent as he had before the paddle, but had instead acted during his spanking more like Ron had with crying out and wiggling a bit as a result of the sting. Why was Harry suddenly not acting like he expected Snape to abuse him? Even Harry negotiating with Snape before the punishment about bending over the bed was certainly out of character for a child that was abused.

Snape had initially felt that he should bend Harry over his knee and snap at him that the punishment was usually not the choice of the punished, but something in the raw honesty that Harry offered to him made him want to grant his request. And why had he been honest like that? Was he not scared of Snape any more? And the longing he had heard in the boy's voice when he talked about a father like Ron had . . . well, it stirred something deep within Snape as well. But, whatever his hesitancy in meting out the punishment, he did not want to give an overly soft one that would communicate to Harry that he was anything less than completely serious.

Snape, deciding that the youngster obviously needed a bit more in the way of a lecture, and ignoring the small voice inside him that told him that he wanted to make sure Harry was alright, he decided that he wasn't leaving until Potter was completely convinced not to engage in any form of revenge. He waited until the sobs subsided and he saw the miscreant's hand creep around his backside to give it a surreptitious rub. Slowly, the boy rose from the position of being bent over the bed but did not turn around or attempt to sit.

"So much fuss and bother over a spanking that was less harsh than the paddle," Snape told him with a sigh, but lacking a tone of criticism. "And one that you know full well that you deserved."

"I don't know why this upset me more than the time with the paddle," Harry answered truthfully. "It just felt different. With the paddle my brain kind of . . . turned off. This time it didn't."

"We need to talk," Snape told him firmly, pushing out of his mind the obvious implication of Harry not freezing for his punishment this time. He didn't want to think about the fact that the boy before him might actually trust him, the bat of the dungeon. "Sit."

"I'd rather stand, sir," Harry answered.

"I'm aware of that," Snape told him firmly in a voice that brooked no opposition. "And I told you to sit unless you'd rather bend over for a few more."

Harry obeyed, expecting a painful contact with his bum. When he realized that he sat with no more discomfort than standing, he looked at Snape with surprise. Why had the man cast a cushioning charm for him?

"Now that I have your attention, there are a few things that I mean to make clear to you," Snape told him firmly. "Failure to listen and understand will result in a further acquaintance with my slipper, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Harry answered, still a bit shaky. He rubbed his face, trying to rid himself of the incriminating tears.

"It is perfectly acceptable to cry," Snape told him briskly. "Most children do. That is why I found your reaction the time with the paddle to be troubling."

"Thank you, sir," Harry answered, not elaborating why he was thanking him.

"Don't thank me yet," Snape answered. "There are some truths that you need to hear and understand. What do you think your aunt and cousin are feeling right now after hearing me soundly punish you?"

"They heard it?" Harry asked, paling.

"I did not cast a muffling charm," Snape answered. "There are political reasons afoot that I had to work with, and so I chose to let them hear your punishment. How do they feel?"

"Pleased," Harry answered miserably. "I'm sure they are very happy that they heard me get the slipper. Dudley probably smiled and laughed the whole time, and I'm sure I'll hear all about how I was a sobbing baby. He'll probably say you spanked me until I howled."

"Probably," Snape agreed. "And your aunt, who believes you to be evil and naughty, also gets the vindication of having another adult, one that she hates from your school no less, protect her and her son by administering a painful smacking to you. I expect her to feel self-satisfied and smug. I also expect her to like that feeling, and to be far less reluctant to call me in the future."

"You're right," Harry answered, dropping his eyes.

"And so this is where your revenge took you," Snape continued mercilessly. "You felt the need to lord your magic over your cousin, and you end up punished and embarrassed. How was this revenge for you?"

"Terrible," Harry admitted, renewed tears in his eyes. "But what else can I do? I can't just let them get away with it."

"What would today have looked like if you had enjoyed George's company, studied together and chatted, and basically ignored the Dursleys for everything except the food they provide?"

"I would not have a sore backside now," Harry admitted ruefully.

"And you would have had a pleasant day and they would be stewing in their hate," Snape told him. Then sighing, he said, "I told you that you were not ready to talk to me about what real revenge looks like. You still aren't really, but I want you to think about the two paths your choices could have taken you down. Which one do you wish you had chosen now?"

"The one where George and I are hanging out in my room eating candy he smuggled from Honeyduke's," Harry admitted.

"Even if your aunt calls, I won't punish you unless I feel the situation warrants it," Snape assured him, relenting a bit. "But if you continue on this path I suspect that I will be back again, and not for a social call."

"I'll be good," Harry grimaced. "Although if you did want to come back for a social call I wouldn't mind."

"I will take a shift with you in the next week," Snape told him in an official voice, though inside he found himself shocked at the boy seeming to want his company. Shouldn't he be angry and bitter that his hated potions professor not only smacked him but made sure his hated relatives heard it? "That infernal woman Tonks will be here in the next few minutes for the next shift."

"I liked her," Harry nodded.

"I will leave you now and go speak to your relatives," Snape told him. "But let me make you this promise. Even though I have forbidden you from seeking revenge, it does not mean that revenge will not be taken."

. . .

Harry paused there, feeling like it had been enough of the story for the auror. Shacklebolt sat back in his chair, folding his hands contemplatively before him and examining the young wizard in front of him.

"I would like you to write down a statement of everything that happened tonight from dinner until you came to Professor Snape's office," Shacklebolt told him, wordlessly conjuring a quill and parchment.

"How honest should I be?" Harry asked. "I feel like some of the things I might have to say could incriminate myself. Do wizards have a fifth amendment?"

"You watch too much American television," Snape told him firmly. "And really this is simple. If you are guilty, even accidently, say nothing and I will get you an advocate who can help you navigate this process to get you the best possible sentence. But if you are not guilty, then you need to be completely and absolutely honest. Even the smallest embarrassing detail can either exonerate you or lead us to the real killer."

"Will I get amnesty from you, Professor Snape?" Harry asked, eyeing the man shrewdly. "It's possible there was a school rule or two broken that I might need to confess to if I'm to tell the whole truth."

"Temporarily," Snape conceded. "We will discuss any rule breaking you may have done after the murder investigation is done. But only if you cooperate and are completely honest now."

Harry nodded, realizing that was the best deal he was going to get. "Professor Umbridge hated me," Harry confessed. "And I hated her right back."

"Write," Snape ordered, sitting down himself. "I believe I need to tell the auror part of my conversation with your relatives."

* * *

 _AN: Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, Happy New year, Happy Kwanzaa, Happy winter break, or however you celebrate I hope you have a very good one. I am on vacation over break and might or might not have time to write, we'll see. But I will for sure be back in the New Year!_


	4. Chapter 4 - Threatening

_AN: I'm back! Sorry for the delay, after our vacation we had some real life issues crop up that demanded my attention. SO after long last I'm able to start posting again. I'm also looking forward to catching up on my reading, so if there's any author reading this that I don't read and comment on your stuff, let me know. If I'm already reading your stuff, I'm looking forward to catching up on it._

* * *

Snape left the contemplative Harry upstairs in his room and continued to the well-appointed parlor of the Dursleys. He saw both Petunia and Dudley sitting in that room, obviously well-pleased with the events they couldn't help but overhear. He hated their smug certainty, but he knew he would have to work with it for now.

"Mr. Potter will be more respectful," he told Petunia. "But do not hesitate to call me if there are future problems."

"He should not have attacked dear Duddems," Petunia crooned, trying to pat Dudley's hair affectionately but being shrugged off by her teenaged son. "We feel that we are quite at his mercy with all of his . . . unnatural powers."

"I'm sure it's much as he has felt for years in your care," Snape replied acerbically. He knew he had to work with them, but also he could not bring himself to be fully complicit in their abuse and pretend that they were the innocent party. "As I said before, nobody is pretending that you treated that boy well. You neglected and abused him. If it wasn't to his advantage to have the blood wards protecting him, this would be a much different conversation."

"We took the freak in!" Petunia insisted, her face becoming flushed with the boldness of the professor to say she had shirked her duty. "He was fed and clothed."

"You mean barely fed and clothed in rags," Snape corrected her sharply. It would not do if the muggles thought they had actually done right by Harry – they would be much harder to manipulate. "It does neither of us any good for you to act the pious martyr now. Or perhaps you would have your own son raised as you raised your sister's only son?"

"We didn't want him!" Petunia insisted, not even stopping to think how awful she sounded. "We did our duty, but you can't complain that we didn't love the little fiend when it was not our choice to take him!"

"And that speaks volumes to your character, madam," he replied firmly, his dark eyes flashing. "And you obviously know very little about me to think that you can take that tone with me without repercussions." He knew he could intimidate the woman, especially one who had a magical sister and understood all that entailed. Petunia also must have heard something of his reputation over the years, and he would use any advantage he had now.

Snape watched Petunia shake herself, reminding herself of who she was talking to. Her face had a grimace like she'd sucked on a lemon, but she made no further reply.

"But there is something we both want, and we have an agreement so that both sides benefit," Snape continued, recognizing her recognition of her position. "You are providing the minimal amount of care necessary to ensure the blood wards, and in return you receive medical care for your son that is unavailable through muggle means."

"It's unfair that you are taking advantage of poor Duddems health problem," Petunia sniffed, sounding like a tortured martyr.

"Just as it was unfair of you to treat your sister's son like you did," Snape snapped. "But I'm sure that my conscience will recover from bribing you. Really, you have no sense of what I am truly capable of if you think bribery will shame me."

Petunia paled, and decided she was not going to pursue that line of thought any more. "How will we even know the potion works?" she asked waspishly.

"The potion only gives him a normal metabolism, but you will still need to make sure he eats well and exercises or he won't be a healthy person," Snape told her. "It is a relatively simple potion, and I am highly skilled. It must feel strange, I would imagine, to have your son's health being used as a pawn in a chess game. As you stated, I imagine it doesn't feel fair, or perhaps it is as fair as the fact that I must barter and bribe you for care that Harry should have received by right? That indeed you were reimbursed for by Dumbledore himself?"

"We did our best."

"And that, madam, is completely false," he told her firmly, with a tone that brooked no opposition. "You have mistreated that boy and you know it."

"But you see what happens through soft treatment!" she protested. "We have not been allowed to take a firm hand, and you see how he attacked dear Dudley when he thought he couldn't be punished?"

"And he has been dealt with in a direct manner," Snape told her. "And I will return to deal with him again if necessary. But let me remind you as well, you harm him and you will have to deal with me as well. Think on that."

"Do not threaten me," she told him, her lips thin and pressed, trying to wrest some power back from the austere wizard.

"Do you think for one moment if it wasn't to Harry's advantage to be here that you wouldn't be paying for your crimes against that boy?" Snape asked with a deliberately threatening tone. "I do not make idle threats."

Petunia paled. "We just wanted to get the magic out of him," she told Snape, her voice sounding more vulnerable and less sure. "It would have been a kindness if we could have made him normal."

"I don't believe you were thinking of anything but yourself," Snape spat. "You know it doesn't work that way. And even if it did, know that if you had been successful, it would have probably have meant the damnation of our world – both magical and muggle. But for now be thankful that we are still trying to bribe you rather than punish you – for I do not think you could bear such a punishment."

"You sound as if that boy is someone special," she tried to spit at him, but it came out softer than she intended.

"Indeed he is," Snape replied.

. . .

"Thanks for talking to them, sir," Harry looked up from his writing to tell Snape. "They gave me a lot of space after that. They did call you a few more times, remember, but you didn't think what I had done warranted, well, a more direct punishment."

"Though I believe that's what they had hoped for," Snape nodded. "I told you I wouldn't punish you unless I believed you warranted it. They simply wanted the satisfaction of you being punished."

"I'm surprised they were brave enough to call you," Shacklebolt commented. "It seems that you threatened them quite handily."

"They are complete idiots," Snape replied. "They think that as long as they had something we wanted that they couldn't really come to much harm. Perhaps I should have found a way to demonstrate an Imperious charm, and that would have made them think twice. They truly had no idea who they were dealing with."

"You are one to reckon with," Harry told him, and Snape was surprised to see a look of admiration in his eyes. Surely Harry hated him after all he had done to the boy? "But they didn't try and hurt me at all, and they fed me too. I think they were a little afraid not to, that you might come back like some vengeful wraith."

"Far too much television," Snape nodded at him. "I shall have to talk to them about limitations. I know the Weasley twins were fascinated with it while they were with you . . ."

"Are you done with what you're writing?" Shacklebolt interrupted. "I believe that the other aurors will be anxious for your statement."

"I've done as best I can," Harry nodded, handing him the scroll.

Pointedly, Snape took the scroll and looked it over before handing it over to the auror.

"It appears we have much to discuss after this investigation is over," Snape told Harry with a firm voice. "I should have known you'd be up to mischief."

"You told me I had to tell the truth!" Harry protested. "I shouldn't be punished for what I had to say!"

"You shouldn't have flagrantly violated so many rules," Snape answered firmly. "However, I will take the coercion into account. We will discuss it when you are no longer under the threat of a murder investigation, however."

Harry paled, and looked down at his hands. "I look pretty guilty, don't I?" Harry asked in a small voice.

"I'm afraid so," Snape answered him, but without the usual biting sarcasm. "But it's not like we haven't been here before, correct? We managed to exonerate you last time. I will contact your little trio of troublemakers and set you to the next needed task: We need to know everyone who suffered under that bloody black quill. Could you and your sidekicks manage that task?"

"Of course," Harry answered, brightening to have a task to do. "We'll get right on it. Anything else?"

"Keep them away from me," Snape told him firmly. "I am not part of your little pack of Gryffindors, so I would appreciate some modicum of respect. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Harry answered dutifully, though Snape knew it was pointless. He would likely have one of the sidekicks in his office before a day had passed. Perhaps he should have used the cane on them last spring, maybe that would have scared them off.

"I also brought some potions to heal you," Snape told the lad, pulling two vials out from the pockets in his robes. "I suppose now that Mr. Shacklebolt is done with you I may treat your wounds."

Harry, blushing, pulled out his hand.

"You may place your hand on the table," Snape directed in a detached voice, gesturing at the table. "It might sting a bit, but it's not too bad."

Harry obeyed wordlessly, his eyes becoming clouded with emotion.

"Thank you for healing me," he managed to whisper to Snape.

"Did you think I wouldn't?" he asked, his tone soft and slightly mocking.

"Well, I, well, I should have told you," Harry stuttered. "You're right. I knew I should have told you but . . ."

"But what?" Snape asked, his eyes on the injured hand.

"But, well, sometimes I'm still not sure," Harry admitted. "I mean, you're so much nicer to me now . . ."

"I am not a nice person, Mr. Potter," Snape told him firmly as he gently examined the injured hand.

"Maybe not really nice," Harry conceded. "But you're, well, good to me. You listen to me and help me figure things out."

"I had _thought_ we were building a good rapport," Snape acknowledged with a slight offense in his voice.

"We were," Harry blushed. "I enjoyed it. I, well, I looked forward to visiting you as much as I probably looked forward to visiting Hagrid in my first year."

"I see," Snape told him. "Brace yourself, this stings a little."

Harry hissed at the sting, and then looked down. "I should have told you," Harry admitted. "I shouldn't have tried it on my own. I tried a few times, and every time I wanted to tell you, I just couldn't."

"Were you afraid I'd be angry at you?" Snape asked softly.

"No," Harry admitted. "I was afraid you'd think less of me. I wanted you to think of me as strong and brave, not some silly kid who lets a stupid toad make him cut his own hand open."

"I see," Snape acknowledged. "But I wonder if there is more."

"More?" Harry echoed.

"Your . . . cooperation with her abuse makes me wonder if there's a part of you that feels that you deserved it."

"Deserved it?" Harry echoed.

"Indeed," Snape answered. "Sometimes children who are raised in an abusive manner such as you experienced sometimes don't stop further abuse because they think there's something wrong with them and they deserve it."

Harry was silent, watching the skin on his hand bubble and knit together. They both knew that this silence was assent to what Snape had said.

"She said it, you know," Harry told him after several moments. "She said that I knew that I deserved to be punished."

"And they call me a harsh teacher," Snape said unemotionally as he brushed on the last of the potion. He then sighed, looking up from the healing hand and into the face of the boy before him. "She played with your mind, Harry," Snape told him clearly. "She knew how to manipulate you and make you not seek allies against her. She was trying to demoralize you."

"Why?" Harry asked, his voice raw with emotion.

"Probably to shut you up," Snape replied in a no-nonsense way. "You have a very inconvenient habit of being right in the most irritating way possible. And I believe Umbridge was sent with the specific purpose of shutting you up so people wouldn't question Fudge."

"But I'm just a boy!" Harry protested. "I know I'm supposed to be some bloody boy-who-lived or something, but why?"

"That is what we need to find out," Snape told him, replacing the vials to his cloak with deliberation. "And we also need to know who would kill her to stop it."

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, not able to look at Snape directly. "I should have told you."

"I accept your apology," Snape nodded gravely. "But I will also give you a warning. If you ever hide something like this from me again the consequences will be severe. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Harry nodded. "Thank you for having mercy on me."

"You are welcome," he told the boy. "But I will not be in the dark about anything regarding you in the future. I cannot help you if I don't understand the stakes."

"Agreed," Harry nodded.


	5. Chapter 5 - Hermione Protecting

_AN: I wanted to apologize by my long silence and not updating this story. I have been dealing with a hard diagnosis for someone in my immediate family, and it has made it very hard to write. I'm coping better now, so I hope to be able to return to writing more, as it is something that I love so much. Thank you for sticking with my story!_

Snape was unsurprised when he saw Hermione Granger waiting for him when he returned to his lab at Hogwarts many hours later, standing outside his door as if she belonged there. Was there no decorum or respect for the rules left?

"Shouldn't you be somewhere studying something?" he asked pugnaciously. "Or has that hot place below finally frozen over?"

"I have a request," she told him. "May I come in and talk to you?"

"I suppose," he sighed ungraciously. "It's probably the fastest way to get rid of you."

"It is," Hermione agreed curtly, and walked ahead of him into his lab.

"So what is this request?" Snape asked pointedly. "Are you here to barter for me to prove your friend innocent?"

"You're already doing that," she waved her hand. "I'm interested in something more serious."

"This could be serious enough to send your young friend to Azkaban," Snape told her sharply.

"But he's innocent!" she protested.

"How many innocent people do you think are in Azkaban?" Snape asked with venom. "I know of several."

"He won't go to Azkaban because you will save him," she told him, assuring herself. "And it's interesting how you automatically help him, isn't it?"

"Is this part of your actual point?" he asked. "I have no time for games, Miss Granger."

"I have come to ask you to be his father," Hermione said firmly and with a nod. "It is obvious that he needs a father, and you seem the best candidate."

While verbally sparring with people was secretly one of his favorite activities, he found himself completely gobsmacked as to what the young witch was saying. Had she lost her bloody mind?

"You should return to your room and lay down with a cold compress," he told her with sarcasm. "Obviously you are overwrought."

"We both know that he endangers himself far too readily," she told him, sighing and sitting down without invitation. "And I've thought long and hard about the difference between Harry and Ron and me. We at least hesitate a bit before going headlong into danger. Harry doesn't have that anchor of someone caring for him – and making him tow the line if he screws up and actually caring when he's in danger. And not caring like the doting professors with the 'poor little lad' sort of thing but actually caring enough to make him stop doing it. It's like he's kind of floating out there and trying to use Ron and me as the anchors that his parents should be but aren't. And to be honest, we're not good at it."

"Surely there are better candidates," he argued, realizing that she was right about Harry needing an anchor.

"Dumbledore is too kind and too busy," Hermione continued, ticking off her fingers. "Lupin really isn't able to much, Sirius is unavailable and wanted by the police. And I suspect he's an overgrown child anyway."

"Arthur Weasley?" Snape asked, seeming to ask the obvious.

Hermione looked at him with contempt. "Do you really think that between his job and the incorrigible kids he already has that he has the time and energy to look after Harry properly?"

"The last time I checked he has legal guardians," Snape sniffed. "Not great ones, grant you, but they are related to him. By blood even."

"They would most likely pray for Harry to hurt himself," Hermione quipped. "There is nothing in you that thinks that the Dursleys are remotely suitable for Harry."

Snape had to admit that she had a point, however reluctant he might be to concede. "Do you really think that I, a former death eater and known to be a terror of the student body is a better choice?" he he asked incredulously.

"I do," she nodded. "I gave it a great deal of thought, and when it comes down to it, you are the best choice."

"I am not a nice person!" he insisted, wondering how this child could think he could father a child, let alone the bloody boy who lived.

"You do not fool me any longer, Severus Snape," she told him evenly, showing no fear at all in her voice. "You have exposed far too much of your real person to let me believe that any more."

"I paddled you!" he insisted. "Surely you hate me."

"It was fair," Hermione shrugged. "And while it certainly wasn't fun, you were decent about it. You also went to great lengths to exonerate Harry, and this time as well. And then over the summer you were quite fatherly as well."

"You know the details about the summer?" Snape asked. "You know that I took a slipper to your friend?"

"I make it my business to know everything about Harry and Ron," Hermione told him simply. "And while you did punish him, you were also quite kind in how you did it. And you are the first person I have seen be able to change Harry's behavior at all – but you made him think, and he understood that he had to get along with the Dursleys enough to keep the magic working."

"You can't possibly think that the boy likes me, especially if I am the only one able to check his behavior," Snape argued. "He probably hates me."

"It is clear that Harry has already formed an attachment to you; otherwise why would he come visit you all the time down here?" Hermione argued. "He seems to quite enjoy his time with you."

How much does she know? Snape wondered, eyeing her shrewdly. "You seem well informed," he sniffed.

"I told you, when it comes to Harry I know everything," she insisted. "And, unless I miss my guess, you have started forming an attachment to Harry as well."

He could deny it, perhaps emphatically and with a few profanities. But deep down he knew the young witch was right, and that part of him had soften towards the spectacled savior of the world. Why else would he let the lad visit so much? Why did Harry seem to want to visit him?

"My feelings are irrelevant," Snape told her coldly. "It is impossible for me to be the father of the Boy Who Lived."

"I'm just asking for Harry," Hermione answered. "Not some bloody savior. I don't care about the baby that beat Voldemort, I care about my friend that I'm afraid may accidently kill himself if he doesn't feel as if there's an adult that cares about him."

"And you think I can help with that, do you?" he asked in a voice that sounded like he meant it sarcastically, but couldn't quite get it there.

"I do," Hermione told him. "He already respects you, and you're already disciplining him when he's out of line. He already comes to you to spend time with you."

"The last time I endeavored to discipline Mr. Potter he refused the intimacy of bending over my lap," Snape informed her, putting an end to her fantasies. His voice was cold and hard, he was able to keep any shred of hurt out of it. In reality, Harry's refusal had surprised him and even – maybe at least a bit – hurt him. He hadn't even recognized the mercy that Snape had offered him. "He doesn't want me as a father."

"Can't you see he was just scared?" she asked incredulously. "He desperately wanted to touch you and to have that reassurance, but he's desperately scared to have affection for you when he's not sure how you feel about him. What if he had bent over your lap and that triggered all these feelings of affection for you and longings for you to be his dad and you weren't interested? That's what he was scared of."

"Indeed?" Snape asked, sounding sure of himself but secretly wondering if the girl was right.

"You must have seen it," Hermione insisted.

Snape uncomfortably realized that he had seen it. Seeing it was what made him let Harry choose, and to be uncharacteristically kind to the boy. But had it really been a kindness?

"You're going to need to be the grown-up here," Hermione told him. "You're going to have to go first. You need to assure him that you want to be his father before he can let himself trust you more."

"And are you sure that's what I want?" he asked her in an acerbic tone.

"Of course it is," she answered, waving away the question.

"How are you sure of this?" he asked her, puzzled himself.

"You would not have helped him so thoroughly last time," Hermione told him. "If you honestly thought of him as the hated son of your rival, you would have been seen to be helping to pacify Dumbledore but not really helped. We both know you brought your A game to the situation, Professor."

"My 'A game' aside, what makes you think that I, a confirmed bachelor with a penchant for terrorizing students, would want to have one of said students permanently in his life?"

"You are alone," Hermione observed seriously, without any note of judgment in her voice. "You think in terms of alliances rather than friendship. I think maybe you can help each other."

Snape, exasperated at both her uncomfortable insight and her managing manner, sighed impatiently. "So you want me to punish the boy again to show that I am a trustworthy parental figure?"

"I'm sure you can think of something better," she smiled, her glance cheeky and self-assured. "Although you and I both know that a coming confrontation is inevitable."

"Inevitable?"

"This is how I see this playing out," she told him, tucking her hair behind her ear. "You will do something to convey to Harry that you have some interest in him, other than just as his professor. It won't be mushy, perhaps even said out of obligation. This will spark Harry's interest, and he will begin to fret if you meant what you said. This will likely lead to him breaking some rule to get your attention."

"Even when he's a suspect for murder?" Snape asked, incredulous.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and met his eyes steadily, and Snape knew she was right. "This will lead to you punishing him in some way, and if you have enough character to stand it, taking a more parental role. Harry will feel safer, and perhaps will begin to quit risking his life so much."

"You seem to have it all figured out," he observed dryly.

"The cycle might repeat a few times," she admitted. "And of course I don't know for sure. But it's the best scenario I can figure for helping my friend."

"You seem to take friendship very seriously," he told her, without menace or sarcasm. The young Gryffindor had raised herself in his estimation despite his best efforts.

"These are the first friends I've had," she answered soberly. "And it frightens me the risk Harry takes with his life. I fear that without some sort of help that I am unable to provide for him that he will take one risk too many. I'm desperate."

"Clearly you are desperate if you are approaching me in such a manner," he told her, sniffing his indifference.

"Did you ever have a friend that you would do anything to protect?" she asked plaintively, for the first time seeming like the young girl that she truly was. "Someone you were afraid would be hurt from their own detachment to this world? I would do anything to protect him."

That hit Snape somewhere far more vulnerable, and he knew that Hermione now could ask him whatever she wished. He had had one such friend, and had given everything to try and protect her. "I will take your fears under advisement," he told her smoothly, though the both recognized his acquiescence when they heard it. "I cannot promise more than that at this time."

"I understand," she nodded her acceptance. Snape got the feeling that she understood a little too well, as if she understood that his personality prevented him from just being open and warm with her, and telling her that though her proposal was shocking it had certain appeal beyond her appealing to his desire to protect Lily.

It struck him then that Harry's young friend reminded him somewhat of Lily. Not in her looks really, but something about her stubborn loyalty and tenacity. Lily had stuck by him for years – even though he had been sorted into a rival house, and even though he was an awkward, strange-looking kid from a volatile and poor family. It wasn't until that fateful day – well, he admitted to himself. It had been more than that. If it had just been one use of a foul word or one incidence of his temper getting the better of him, she would have forgiven him. It had taken him years to realize that it hadn't really been the word, but what the word represented. She had seen his gradual seduction by the dark arts, and when he had viciously lashed out at her and used the term that hurt her more than any others, she knew that the Severus she had loved was gone. Or, if not gone, at least radically changed. If only he could have recognized it at the time . . .

"I would have thought that the savior of the wizarding world would not be so hard up for guardians," Snape quipped, banishing the presence of Lily from his mind.

"I suppose he's a special case," she acknowledged.

"And protecting him from an impending accusation is also not a trivial matter," Snape sniffed. "I require you to find out as thoroughly as possible other children disciplined by Umbridge with the quill, as well as possible other enemies."

"At least we don't need to use the house elf to prove to Harry that he's innocent this time," Hermione smiled wanly. "Someone may not have been trying to frame Harry at all. But there is something I don't understand at all."

"Only one thing?"

"Why use such a muggle means of murder?" Hermione asked, ignoring his sarcasm. "I mean, everyone here has a wand and access to poison. Why use a knife?"

"Why indeed?" Snape echoed, thinking of her question. "Perhaps the person did not want to be implicated if the ministry examined spells on their wand. Perhaps the person had no wand, or perhaps it was a crime of opportunity. Those are excellent questions, Miss Granger, keep thinking along those lines."

"Thank you, sir," she nodded. "I will come tomorrow night to tell you what we've found so far."

"Anybody is a suspect, Miss Granger," he told her firmly. "Beware of who you trust."

"I trust you," she smiled, acknowledging.

"Get out you silly Gryffindor," he told her, though his voice wasn't menacing. "I've had enough of your schemes this evening."

Snape watched the girl go, finding himself contemplating her proposal. He would be lying to himself if he didn't say that he was enjoying his relationship with Harry, and she was dead right about his lack of a competent father figure was becoming problematic. Minerva had said much the same thing last year, to which he largely dismissed. He had walked the line between since then – offering the young man some guidance and boundaries, while not truly committing himself. Perhaps that needed to change.


	6. Chapter 6 - Occlumency

_AN: I'm actually very sorry for the cliffhanger, but I wanted to give the following chapter enough room to properly have this discussion. Thank you for all of the great and supportive comments, it really is good therapy to write. Enjoy! Let me know if you think Snape is too soft in this chapter, I wanted a gradual and conflicting softening, but I'm worried it's too much._

Snape went to bed that night wondering how that willy Gryffindor girl got so wise. In the dark relaxation before sleep as he performed his occlumency exercises, an image came to mind. He had the image of sharing a meal with young Potter in his quarters, and the boy was prattling on as if they were family. In the image Snape ate his meal, commenting on the boy's prattle, and asking the lad questions about activities they would do that weekend together. There was something so . . . attractive about the picture. Homey. Something he had never had, and from the evidence he'd seen neither had the boy.

How was he going to talk to the lad about having more of a guardianship relationship with him? Become his father? Keep him anchored enough in this world that he wouldn't foolishly kill himself? With chagrin, he realized that if there had been someone to ground him in a fatherly way he probably wouldn't have signed up with the Dark Lord.

Snape woke from his deep sleep instantly when Dumbledore's phoenix Patronus entered the room. Swishing his wand to dress himself instantly, he was in Dumbledore's office within moments. Dumbledore rarely called him in the middle of the night, and he found himself readying himself for all sorts of possibilities. He folded his hands before him as he took in the details of the room.

Potter was in the room, an obvious emotional mess with his face red from tears. Dumbledore had a very grave look on his face, a look that raised Snape's level of trepidation more than anything else. He had rarely seen Dumbledore look so grave.

"May I be of assistance, Headmaster?" he asked calmly.

"Indeed, you may," Dumbledore nodded. "It has become clear on this night that Harry shares a link with Voldemort that is beyond what any of us anticipated. Tonight Harry witnessed an attack on Arthur Weasley by a large snake, and has alerted us to that attack. I have taken measures to see that Arthur is rescued and that his children are on the way. However, I believe Harry can use your assistance in this matter."

"I understand, Headmaster," Snape nodded, his guts twisting in fear. That sort of a link was truly terrifying in its implications. Snape kept his face carefully schooled despite the situation, and he saw that the Headmaster was doing the same. They were two of the only people who truly understood that implications if Voldemort became aware of this connection.

"I would like you to start tonight," Dumbledore told him.

"Of course," Snape nodded again. "Come with me, Mr. Potter."

Harry seemed to be very disoriented, so Snape took Potter by the arm to hurry him along. Harry stumbled, and Snape brought him upright.

"I k-killed him," Harry choked out as he stumbled again.

"Come quickly with me," Snape barked at him. "You have been accused of murder before, and I don't believe it this time either."

"But, but I was there!" Harry cried as they entered to potions lab.

"Do we need to call your elf to confirm again?" Snape asked him harshly. "You were at no point out of Hogwarts."

"But I saw it!" Harry protested. "I was the snake!"

"You aren't thinking logically," Snape chided him firmly, hoping his firmness would be enough to encourage Potter's self-control. "Now I need you to calm yourself or you won't be able to think!"

"I can't calm myself!" Harry nearly yelled. "Don't you know what just happened?"

"Calm yourself," Snape told him, realizing that panic was overtaking the boy and that a threat was likely the only thing he could currently hear. "Or I will summon the slipper and put you over my knee here and now."

That threat stopped Harry up short, and he paled in response. Snape saw him struggle to control himself, and he kicked himself for not teaching the boy basic occlumency skills. Even a simple breathing exercise would be useful to the boy. And now he was going to have to try and teach the boy enough that he could withstand the Dark Lord himself.

"Sit up straight and put your hand on your stomach," Snape directed. "I'm going to teach you how to breathe properly to gain emotional control."

"Like this, sir?" Harry asked, trying hard to control his panic.

"Yes, like that," Snape demonstrated with his own stomach. "Now, breathe in through your nose deeply, enough to move the hand on your stomach. Focus on moving that hand. Good, now exhale through your mouth."

Harry obeyed, and Snape saw the boy's tension begin to lessen as he focused on his breathing; on moving the hand on his stomach. His eyes closed and he smelled the dusty herbal scent of the potions lab, the sound of a potion bubbling in its cauldron, and the suddenly drafty feeling of the cold air of the potions room subtly embracing his threadbare pajamas.

"Now that you are calmer, we need to discuss what happened," Snape told him carefully, maintaining authority in his voice but also trying to seem – well, if not actually warm at least not menacing.

"Are, are you going to punish me?" Harry asked, sounding like a much younger child.

"Not unless you are disobedient in our time together," Snape answered firmly. "You have done nothing else warranting correction other than some most unmannerly yelling at me."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Tell me what happened," Snape urged, nodding at the apology and leaning back to try and appear less menacing.

"It felt like a dream," Harry told him. "But more real than anything I'd ever seen. I was the snake, and I was at the ministry. I desperately wanted something in a room."

"Have you had this dream before?" Snape asked blandly.

"I have," Harry admitted. "But never so clearly before. And then in my dream I saw, well, I saw Mr. Weasley. And then . . ."

"Yes?"

"I attacked him," Harry answered in a quiet, flat voice. "I killed him."

"I think it very likely that you saved him," Snape countered. "If you had not seen the attack, Dumbledore would not have known to send someone to help him. If Mr. Weasley survives it would be due to you."

Harry, not sure how to answer, looked down. "But I hurt him."

Snape sighed. Gryffindors. "Use your logic, Potter. Did you want to hurt Mr. Weasley?"

"God no," Harry answered, with raw honesty that was bordering on a sob.

"Would you have stopped the snake if you could have?" Snape asked again.

"Of course!" Harry insisted. "But I felt the snake's longing for hurting him . . . and I also felt sick and horrified by it."

"You were not in control," Snape told him. "You were along for the ride. There is some connection between the Dark Lord and yourself, and we need to help you shield that connection as soon as humanly possible."

"How do I do that?" Harry asked, looking up at Snape for the first time.

"It is a magic called Occlumency," Snape explained. "It is the art of being able to block your mind from wizards that are Legilimens, or ones that have the power to read minds and intrude on your innermost thoughts."

"Is Voldemort a Legilimens?" Harry asked.

"The Dark Lord is one of the best," Snape confirmed. "Even without the help of this connection that you seem to have with him."

"Does he know about the connection?" Harry asked softly.

"We do not know," Snape admitted. "Which is why it is imperative that we begin tonight."

"What happens if he finds out?" Harry asked.

"He will try and destroy you through it," Snape answered bluntly. "He will torture you with images of your loved ones in pain, he will feed you lies, and he will drive you to the brink of sanity. He takes great pleasure in killing a person through long and torturous methods, and he finds the mental games as much fun if not more than physical torture."

Harry paled and swallowed audibly. He had nothing to say to that.

"Let us begin," Snape told him. "The breathing exercise is the beginning. You need to be able to clear your mind. I picture it as if I surround my mind with a ditch of nothingness, and anything attempting to attack falls into that ditch. But this takes great concentration and practice, Potter."

"I understand," Harry nodded.

"Picture a ditch around your mind . . ." Snape began, and then led him through mental exercises to build those structures. As he led Harry through the prescribed methods of building occlumency shields, he reflected on how he built his own shields. Snape had been a natural occlumens from a very young age, mostly in response to an abusive home environment. Further study had only perfected what he had already naturally developed, so he wasn't sure how to teach someone who hadn't been naturally suited for it.

Harry's abuse didn't seem to have encouraged occlumency, but he wondered if that was because Harry hadn't known that magic was real. He had also reacted to the abuse differently than Snape had in his childhood – Harry had tried to please his relatives; had kept the secrets and endured the beatings. Snape had fled as much as possible, and plotted his own petty revenges. His father hadn't known that the non-healing cyst on his bottom was the result of his son's revenge for a beating, but the revenge had made Snape feel powerful. It was the quest for that power that had eventually led to his seduction by Voldemort – when he was no longer satisfied with the bout of vicious diarrhea suffered by his father to compensate for the suffering of his mother after a stinging slap and a menacing shove. And it was that quest for power that he hoped to deter Harry from embarking on this summer with his boyish but cruel pranks.

"I am now going to try and enter your mind," Snape announced. "Look at me and attempt to defend yourself."

Harry nodded, looking at Snape.

"Legilimens!" Snape cast, and found himself entering Harry's mind.

Snape found himself standing on one side of the ditch, though knowing that he could cross it if he chose. On the other side he saw a respectable, suburban attached house, which he assumed was the muggle house where Harry was raised. It surprised him how much effort it took to cross the ditch, obviously the exercises were helpful.

"Don't come in!" he felt the pushback from Potter.

"Stop me," Snape told him, opening the door as if it had been stuck with taffy. Once inside, he saw a monstrously large caricature of who assumed was Harry's uncle, slobbering, hulking, and larger than life.

"Out!" Harry yelled, attacking him. Snape decided to relent and let Harry push him out, just to encourage the lad on what it felt like.

Snape found himself pushed out, and then reached into his pocket for a pain relieving potion that he knew the lad would need.

"Here, take this," he told him gently, pressing the small vial into his hand. "It's normal to have a headache at the beginning."

Harry, clutching his head with one hand and accepting the vial with the other one, and quaffing it without even smelling the potion. Snape marveled at the apparent trust this student had for him. He had to teach the boy more caution, and the sooner the better. But it also warmed him in a strange way – maybe the idea of being his guardian wouldn't be so strange after all. Maybe the boy wouldn't flee in horror upon the suggestion.

"That was an adequate first attempt," Snape told him. "But there is much more to do. I will set you exercises to do every night before bed, and we will practice at least once a week."

"You're going to keep training me?" Harry asked, feeling the pain in his head reduce.

"At least once a week, more if another attack happens," Snape confirmed. "You need to tell me about any dreams involving the ministry, the snake, or the Dark Lord himself, is that understood?"

"Do I just come and tell you?"

"As soon as you can, day or night," Snape confirmed.

"Won't that raise questions?" Harry smirked.

"Use that infernal cloak of yours, and don't get caught," Snape sighed. "And for Merlin's sake do not dare to act on anything unless you talk to me first. The first thing the Dark Lord will try to do is lure you there to kill you if he learns of the connection."

"Alright, I guess."

"I'm serious, Harry," Snape told him, suddenly very intense. "Even if you have a vision of him torturing Ron and you think you can save him, you are to come to me first. Failure to do so will acquaint you with a severe punishment."

"I promise," Harry assured him, seeing the fear in Snape's eyes. Why was he so worried about this?

"For the weekly lessons we should have a better subterfuge," Snape continued. "Would you rather earn a weekly detention or be seen as taking remedial potions?"

"Well, my potions grade is certainly no secret," Harry smiled wryly. "That's pretty believable."

"Remedial help it is," Snape nodded. "That's easiest anyway, and spares us from having to come up with misbehavior on your part."

"That could be fun!" Harry protested, feeling lighter.

"Undoubtedly," Snape replied, feeling the lightness himself. Snape knew this was the moment, but could he have the courage to say what needed to be said?


	7. Chapter 7 - Parental Influence

"It has come to my attention that you lack certain . . . parental influences in your life," Snape began.

Harry suddenly became serious, and he froze.

Snape recognized the fear, and pressed on. "Your own parents are dead, your aunt and uncle are, well, I suppose you could vastly underestimate things and say unsuitable. Lupin is gone, and Dumbledore can't engage as much for political reasons."

"Sirius?" Harry asked, his voice almost a croak.

"Certainly, if he grows up about twenty years himself and is able to clear himself of being an escaped felon. I think, at best, he can be your playful uncle who is more like an older cousin." Snape knew this was a merciless evaluation, but he pressed onward. He wasn't going to get the courage again.

"Mr. Weasley probably isn't too fond of me right now," Harry admitted, looking down.

"He is fond of you, probably a bit too much," Snape told him. "And overwhelmed with fathering his own offspring. I think for you he is more of a loving uncle."

"It's not his fault," Harry grumbled.

"It's not any of their faults," Snape sighed, trying to sound forgiving. "But neither are any of them suitable."

"I know I'm an orphan," Harry told him defensively.

"Also not your fault," Snape told him. "Professor McGonagall mentioned last year that she thought you could use a better male guardian in your life, as she thought the others were inadequate. She suggested me, but at that time I believed that you hated me and there was no possibility of me being able to be that person to you."

"McGonagall suggested that?" Harry asked, flabbergasted.

"Professor McGonagall cares a great deal about you," Snape answered, a mild rebuke in her title. "She also knows me quite well, and thought that we could get on together."

"Do you, I mean, do you want to?" Harry asked him, surprised. "I mean, it always seems as if I'm sort of a bother to you."

"You've moved on from being a bother," Snape confirmed calmly, feeling this was the equivalent to a Hufflepuff gushing. "I have found myself, well, I have found myself not hating your visits. And I think that your head of house might be right in you needing more of a parental influence, and that you could benefit from more individualized attention. I believe she said that we could be good for each other."

"Good for each other?" Harry echoed, his face a strange sort of hopeful, and then it clouded over. "How could I possibly be good for you?"

Snape found himself asking the same thing, but he knew that some honesty here was probably what was needed. Blast these Gryffindors and their foolish emotions! This would be so much easier with a Slytherin.

"It is . . . customary to have some sort of offspring, Mr. Potter," Snape answered in his smoothest voice, aiming for a detached voice but hating the fact that he wasn't as detached as he was attempting. "I am unmarried nor am I likely to ever marry, so a guardianship of this type might be the closest I come to experiencing the more . . . paternal role. Your mother was also my friend, as we've discussed before, and so I feel that in some small way we are like family." There, his best attempt at Gryffindor emotional outpourings. The boy had better remember it, there would be no repeat performances.

"Really?" Harry asked, a glimmer of hope showing. "I mean, if you're serious, I think that would be bloody brilliant."

"I would remind you that as your guardian I would take you to task for misbehavior, even that of using decidedly to common of language," Snape intoned, happy to have something to say other than all the mushy stuff spewing forth earlier.

"Sorry, sir," Harry looked down briefly, then regained looking at his face. "But are you really serious?"

"I rarely joke," Snape answered with a sniff. "Of course I am serious. Did you think I would offer you something like this and then take it back?"

Harry looked down again, clearly conveying that indeed there had been many promises made to him that had been retracted. "Thank you, sir," he replied quietly. "It's just so strange to actually feel wanted."

"You are a talented wizard," Snape acknowledged. "And have been somewhat teachable in the past few months. I think you sell yourself short."

"Tell that to the Dursleys," Harry snorted. "But wait . . . does that mean that I would not have to live with them any more?"

"We will decide on that," Snape nodded. "And decisions will be made with my input now – unlike before. I have to warn you, though, that likely I cannot make this arrangement legal for the time being, although I will submit my application now that I know you approve. But I would like you to view yourself as my ward until such a time as it is legal."

"Brilliant!" Harry laughed. "It's almost like having parents again!"

"You may get more for which you bargained," Snape intoned, part of him needing the emotional connecting time to end and the other part of him a little sad by what he knew he had to discuss with Harry. "I believe this would be a good time to discuss some of your confessions that you made during your interrogation."

Harry's eyes flew open widely, and Snape caught the distasteful glance at the desk he had used to punish Harry last spring. Harry then looked down again, as if accepting the inevitable. "I'm sorry, sir," he said quietly.

"Punishing you will be part of my role as your guardian," Snape sighed, seeing the boy's train of thought. He was not used to normal parental behavior, Snape realized, even though he had been quite reasonable with the boy in the past several months. "But it will not be the entirety of it. Nor will all punishments be corporal in nature. I believe an essay on the structures of guardianships and your expectations for a guardian would be sufficient. I think three feet is sufficient, do you agree?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, looking up again in incredulity. Snape could see the wondering in Potter's brain about whether or not the potions master was going soft.

"I believe an essay would be a constructive punishment for both of us," Snape told him. "But I also want to make a few things clear to you. I want to know each and every time that your scar hurts. Do you agree?"

"Yes," Harry nodded, that seemed reasonable.

"You can owl me, have your strange little elf send a message, or come to me directly," Snape told him. "But I would know within the quarter hour, day or night."

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed.

"And as I said before, any more strange dreams like this or anything else concerning I need to know about right away. And I need to know before you step foot out of Hogwarts as well. Do you agree?"

"What about Hogsmeade?" Harry asked, trying to keep the whine out of his voice. The Dursleys had particularly hated any hint of whining.

"Those trips are fine as long as you tell me you're going and you stay in Hogsmeade," Snape nodded. "I will likely accompany you in some way, either as a chaperone from the school or in disguise. If I'm in disguise you won't know who I am, and that is probably the safest for everyone."

Harry nodded, feeling a little overwhelmed by the amount of information that Snape wanted from him. "So I'm supposed to stay safe and have once a week occlumency lessons with you," he surmised. "And keep you informed."

Snape's eyes narrowed slightly, studying the boy. If Miss Granger was right, he was going to have to break some rules to feel safe. It was better to give him some rules to break that were safer for him than leaving Hogwarts, as well as something he could punish with something less than severe options. He wasn't naïve enough to think the boy would never do anything rating a corporal punishment again, but he would like to keep that eventuality as rare as possible. It would probably good for him to have more contact with the lad as well, so all of their conversations wouldn't be about either discipline or occlumency.

"I will also give you a list of my expectations," Snape decided. "And we can meet together to discuss them and come to an agreement. I believe we should meet twice a week as well, perhaps to do some of the remedial potions work for which you have a clear and pressing need."

Potter clearly looked uncomfortable, but nodded in acquiescence. Snape wondered how long this particular level of cooperation was going to last, but he suspected not long. He could almost see the boy set his mind to behave himself in response to Snape's offer of guardianship, but as Hermione stated that would soon start to chafe. Then the boy was going to challenge him. Snape had "parented" too many Slytherins to not agree with Hermione's assessment; children needed to know where the boundaries were to feel safe. Usually after a few strict reprimands and fearsome detentions the Slytherins fell into line in the fall, he could do the same thing for Harry. He ignored the small voice inside that said he already had been.

"Is there anything else you'd like to ask?" he asked Harry carefully.

"Will Mr. Weasley be okay?" The boy sounded appallingly young and vulnerable.

"If anybody can save him it's the Headmaster," Snape sighed. "He will have the best and most discreet people saving him."

"Can I go and see them?" Harry asked quietly.

"I will take you as soon as Mr. Weasley is up for visitors," Snape promised.

"Does Dumbledore know that you've offered to be my guardian?" Harry asked carefully. Implicit in the question was the deeper question and observation; were they both Dumbledore's men?

"The headmaster is aware," Snape acknowledged. "We could not hope to be successful without his knowledge. He was . . . quite pleased with the development. I believe he counts it as one of his worst failures that that he was unable to protect you as he would have liked. Even now, given his choice he would probably have more of a guardian relationship with you himself. But politics dictate differently."

"Can people know?" Harry asked. "I mean, is this public information?"

"It's better to be mostly quiet for now," Snape acknowledged. "You may tell the other two of your trio, but it's best that others don't know. It could save awkward . . . situations from arising. You know that my life is often . . . complicated."

Harry nodded, knowing that there was a lot about this man that he didn't know. A part of him still wondered about his relationship with Voldemort, though seeing him in the graveyard last spring answered some questions for him. He now knew that Snape pretended to serve Voldemort while subtly working against him. But could that ever change?

"I would also like to talk to Sirius," Harry told him carefully, knowing that Snape hated the man.

Snape signed, resigned, and agreed. "I suppose," he agreed. "We can go after you write your essay. I believe the ministry will want to interview you soon in regards to the murder as well, so we should prepare for that eventuality as well."

Harry looked at the gaunt, pale man that he had hated and feared before, and couldn't express how much him saying "we" meant to him. That meant more than anything the man had said before, and gave him a strange, warm feeling in his stomach. What would it mean if the trouble he faced was more than just faced by himself with the help of friends? What if Snape was as invested in his safety was he was? Could he trust that to be true?

And then another, darker and harder question popped up – what if it was a trick of some sort? How could he be sure Snape meant what he said?

 _AN: Okay, enough of the warm squishy stuff, or at least as warm and squishy as a Slytherin can tolerate. I usually write more from Harry's point of view, and in this story (and its predecessor) writing from Snape's point of view has been a fun challenge. Back to action next chapter._


	8. Chapter 8 - No Fear At All

"Potions are boring," Harry muttered, trying for the fifth time to chop Taro root appropriately for his remedial potions lesson.

"I have excellent hearing," Snape informed him acerbically as he observed the pieces. "And the pieces need to be more uniform."

"Why does it matter?" Harry asked, irritated. "Doesn't it all just get mashed up into the potion?"

"Do you think of the exact art of potion making to be the same as making a Sunday beef stew?" Snape asked, his voice dangerously quiet. "Do you suppose that ingredients for the potions is the same as carrots and potatoes?"

"Why aren't they?" Harry shrugged, bristling still from the correction.

"Potion making is to cooking as fine art painting is to fingerpainting," Snape told him. "And let me remind you of the essay you wrote and the agreement that we reached. I expect some respect."

"I never liked cooking much," Harry told him, his tone truculent but not as challenging. "Sir."

"This is nothing like cooking," Snape told him, his irritation starting to reduce when he remembered the boy had been forced to cook for his family.

"How is it different?" Harry asked, the irritation gone from his voice.

"Do you not like potions because of its association with cooking?" Snape asked incredulously. "Have you done poorly in potions for the past five years because of it?"

Harry shrugged, not looking at Snape.

Snape sighed, trying to find reason. "You were forced to perform other tasks," he told him patiently. "Does Herbology remind you of yard work?"

"No," Harry admitted. "Well, not really. I mean, the plants are so cool . . ."

"And does charms remind you of cleaning?" Snape asked.

"No," Harry giggled a little. "Of course not."

"Then potions isn't like cooking," Snape told him. "Look, you are chopping taro root, which is an ingredient you can technically eat. But if you were to put this in a soup, uneven sizes may make less uniform cooking, but that would be the only complication."

"So why does it matter in a potion?"

"Potion making is a type of magic," Snape tried to explain. "It's not about what a taro root really is in the real world, but what the magical essence is of the root. We use a lot of magical ingredients in potions, but even the regular world ones have magical properties if prepared properly. Uneven sizes in the taro root would result in the magical properties being released unevenly."

Harry nodded, that actually made sense. "You should say that in class," he told Snape.

"I have, on multiple occasions," Snape told him, rubbing his face tiredly. "Perhaps you should attempt to listen on occasion."

"Maybe I should," Harry agreed good-naturedly. "I have been listening more the last month or so."

"True," Snape reluctantly agreed. "In fact, I believe you have actually gotten passing grades on your last few homework assignments. Don't go getting a big head about it."

"Hermione was pleased," Harry laughed. "She'd nearly given up on me."

"Your fellow Gryffindor seems particularly . . . insightful," Snape commented in what he hoped was casual. "Her list of students affected by the black quill was thorough."

"She's crazy smart," Harry agreed, attempting to make his taro root more uniform. "She always has been. Ron and I don't question it anymore."

"Hmm," Snape replied, non-committal. This would require further research. "I also wanted to say that you did well in your interview with the ministry."

"I just followed what you said," Harry shrugged. "I think they still think I'm guilty."

"It would be very . . . convenient if you were," Snape admitted. "I believe Umbridge was sent to mediate your influence, and if you were guilty of her murder that would accomplish the goal as well."

"Who do you think did it?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Snape sighed. "It's seemingly an impossible crime with no leads. I believe we have to just see events play out."

"Do you think it was part of a larger plan, like last year?" Harry asked, his voice small. "I mean, like how they were trying to get me to touch the cup so I could be port-keyed somewhere awful?"

"There is nothing suggesting a larger conspiracy," Snape told him carefully. "But of course, you still need to be careful."

"How can I be careful when someone can turn my morning teacup into a port key?"

"Don't you know anything about Hogwarts?" Snape asked, exasperated. "You cannot be transported out of Hogwarts, that's why they went through so much to have the trophy be a port key. It was the only port key allowed, and the wards were changed to accommodate it. But that also makes it more mysterious as to the murder of Professor Umbridge, how could someone have gotten in and out of the office unobserved by portraits and the protections that Hogwarts has?"

"Portraits!" Harry exclaimed. "Surely one in the office saw it!"

"I'm sure they have already been interviewed," Snape told him. "But you do bring up a good observation. Perhaps we should view the crime scene."

"We should bring Hermione and Ron," Harry reasoned. "They could help."

"Perhaps," Snape agreed reluctantly. His more solitary nature was challenged by the idea – a quite disconcerting one! – that the students in question could actually be of help. It also gave him a more natural change to confirm some of the suspicions he was starting to develop about the young, bushy-haired Gryffindor. "If you could finish mangling those roots long enough, perhaps we can develop a plan to get the three of you into her office after hours."

"No plan needed, professor," Harry replied with a cheeky grin. "We've been doing it for years."

"I will trust to your expertise in this matter," he replied, his eyes flashing. "You will find me a more . . . practical guardian than if I were a slave to the rules. You need to know skills like evading detection. But I expect full knowledge of those activities; remember what happens if you do such a thing without my permission."

Harry almost rolled his eyes, but then decided not to. He was a little nervous about what such an action could stir in the stern potion master.

"I'm not stupid, professor," he answered with a cheeky grin. "I remember that conversation well."

The conversation Harry referred to was the first meeting after Harry wrote the essay. Snape had taken his essay written around the expectations of the guardianship and discussed, in detail, the rules he expected Harry to follow and possible consequences that could follow. It had made Harry squirmingly uncomfortable, but also warm in a way too. Why did Professor Snape care that he ate vegetables and got to bed on time? It felt odd to have someone besides Hermione lecturing him. And when he outlined possible punishments, well, since Harry had already had some experience on that it wasn't exactly a surprise, though it was still mortifying.

"All sorts of children want guardians when it's hot tea and biscuits," Snape sniffed. "But the instant it's hard rules and a smack on the bottom they have second thoughts."

"Could I have second thoughts?" Harry asked, curious. "I mean, could we choose to not do it?"

"The application is submitted and temporary guardianship has been granted," Snape answered him carefully, wanting to be truthful. "I suppose it could be dissolved, but it's not just a matter of you getting mad about a rule and throwing a tantrum about it."

"Could you back out?"

"I don't intend to," Snape answered, knowing what was behind the question. "I keep my word. It is likely you might need to . . . test this for yourself. That's your choice, it's your backside. I will not back out of the agreement despite your best efforts. I would advise you not to use too strong of efforts, however, for your own sake."

The memory of Snape using the slipper on him sprang to Harry's mind, and he blushed. That punishment was indeed painful and embarrassing, but it as also something else. Snape had been . . . well, certainly stern but also considerate. Fatherly. But he also wanted to not have it happen again.

"I'll be good," he promised.

Snape snorted in disbelief, and surveyed the deformed taro roots. "Starting with those roots you will only be able to brew a second-rate potion," Snape explained. "You've already brewed plenty of those. Why don't we start fresh again next time?"

"I guess," Harry replied, feeling defeated.

"I will inspect Umbridge's office tonight at midnight," he told him briskly. "Feel free to meet me here then and bring friends, if desired."

. . .

Snape was unsurprised when the three Gryffindors made their way into his office. He didn't ask about their methods to get there, he felt if he knew he might need to discipline it. He meant it that he wanted Harry to have the skills to take care of himself, as long as the use of those skills did not extend to getting him into dangerous situations.

"If we are caught, the story is that I caught you out of bounds after curfew and am escorting you back to Gryffindor tower," Snape told them. "Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir," they mumbled in agreement, looking more excited than anything else. It never failed to surprise him how the harsh punishment he had doled out to these youngsters last spring would have inspired fear for years with his careful and speculative Slytherins, but these Gryffindors took it in stride with little more than a shrug. They weren't any more afraid of him than they were of Pomona Sprout. Perhaps that was part of what it meant to be foolishly Gryffindor, Snape speculated.

"Aren't there protective spells on the office?" Hermione asked. "I would think the Aurors would do that."

"They did," Snape confirmed with a sharp look at the young Gryffindor. "I asked the Headmaster to remove them temporarily." Was she using Legilimency? He couldn't tell for sure, but he kept his shields up and fortified strongly.

They walked swiftly to Umbridge's office, with the scowl on Snape's face looking for all intents and purposes that he was indeed most displeased by the three tailing him. Anybody seeing them would assume that the three Gryffindors had crossed the Potions Master. Upon arrival at the office, the quickly made their way inside and closed the door.

The office seemed even more odious than what Snape had remembered. The walls were a sickening shade of stale pink, and the kittens that had once adorned the plates on the wall were beginning to look sickly, their movements slow and jerked. Snape was surprised that they were still active at all, magic of that sort rarely outlasted the caster.

"No portraits or sentient paintings," Hermione observed, looking around the room. "I don't think those kittens will be good for much."

"We need to inspect the crime scene," Snape told them, waving his wand in a complicated manner. The trio gasped as a silvery image of Umbridge's body, complete with a knife still sticking out of her back, lay sprawled on her desk.

"That's just how I remember it," Harry gulped.

"That's creepy, professor," Ron admitted, feeling a little chagrined about gasping. "Right disturbing."

"This is odd, professor," Hermione said, looking around the room. "The body is in an odd position."

"You mean bent over with a knife in its back?" Ron asked, trying to keep the squeak out of his voice.

"You're right, Miss Granger," he confirmed, slamming closed his occlumency shields. "I was thinking the same thing myself. How was someone able to stab her in the back? Her back's to a wall."

"Someone apparated in!" Ron exclaimed.

"Except they can't," Hermione reminded him. "It's not allowed."

"An impossible murder," Snape breathed, looking around the room.

"Maybe someone froze her when they walked in," Harry said, trying to work it out. "If someone used the _Petrificus Totalis_ on her, they could come around and stab her then."

"That could work," Snape agreed, tapping his chin in thought. "But if you were going to fire a spell, why not a lethal one?"

"What wizard with a wand would use a knife?" Ron asked. "There's a hundred spells that are better."

"You risk detection with a spell," Hermione theorized. "Can't an auror look at the spells you cast?"

"Deatheaters wouldn't care," Snape told them quietly. "So if it was done that way it has to be someone with something to lose if it was indeed to avoid detection. Still, it seems to just be such a muggle way of murder."

"What if it was someone without a wand?" Hermione asked. "Someone like a house elf or a Goblin or something?"

"Still on about the house elves!" Ron rolled his eyes.

"Wizards always forget that there are plenty of other magical creatures!" Hermione insisted. "A house elf could commit murder."

"Well, certainly a house elf could apparate here," Snape agreed. "But they are incapable of causing a human harm. They would die before they did."

"Also, they would stab a bit lower, I think," Harry observed. "Can you sit her up, professor?"

The form of Umbridge sat up with eerie woodenness, the knife still in her back. Ron wasn't the only one feeling queasy about this.

"See, the angle is from above," Harry confirmed. "The killer was a human."

"Or at least human sized, and one a bit taller than you, unless I miss my angle," Snape observed. "But not as tall as me."

"The knife is fully in, so someone strong," Hermione observed. "She had no, well, no chance to fight back."

"Does anybody see anything else?" Snape asked as they continued to look around.

"Any tracks would be obscured by the Aurors," Ron observed, happy to be looking at something other than the image of the dead body. "If there ever were any other clues, I doubt they would survive the trampling they got."

"I'm afraid this is probably all," Hermione observed. "I'm afraid we probably still have more questions than answers."

"Will the aurors believe the bloke that did it was bigger than Harry?" Ron asked.

"It's doubtful," Snape replied honestly. "The ministry is likely more concerned with trying to mediate Harry's influence. It is very convenient for Harry to be accused, even if not formally. And it could be formally at any moment."

"But surely there is some embarrassment from last year, you know, with the false accusation," Hermione objected.

"Perhaps," Snape acknowledged. "He's not currently in custody."

"Should we, you know, smuggle him out?" Ron asked. "I mean, if they're going to go mental and start arresting people . . ."

"That would be premature," Snape told him firmly. "Let's focus on proving his innocence, and the best way is to prove someone else's guilt. So let's focus on who had the motive, means and opportunity in this situation."

"Motive is easy," Ron snorted. "Everyone."

"Means is also not helpful," Hermione suggested. "I mean, anybody has a wand and a knife should be easy to get."

"Has anybody seen the knife?" Snape asked. "Was it muggle?"

"A knife is a knife, right?" Harry asked.

"There are some wizard makers of household equipment," Snape answered. "I will try and find out all I can about the knife."

"Opportunity is the sticking point," Ron agreed. "Or maybe that's means. I mean, being able to get in here unobserved by the portraits outside and then leave again. Unless you have a bl – erm, sorry Professor – an invisibility cloak like Harry, that looks impossible."

"Well someone did it, so not impossible," Snape told them. "Let's find the way."

"I can check with Dobby and see if he knows of a way," Harry said. "Don't you always say that we underestimate house elves?"

"And I will research in the library exceptions to apparition on Hogwarts grounds," Hermione agreed.

"What do I do?" Ron asked, feeling left out.

"Talk to those brothers of yours," Snape answered thoughtfully. "The twins should know every method of this type of action. But I wish to be clear on one point, and clear to each of you. There will not be any sneaking out without my prior knowledge. It is not safe, and it is furthermore not wise when there is a murderer seemingly bent on framing people at large. Do each of you understand?"

"We understand," they mumbled, though Snape knew by the look in Harry's eye that it would not be long before it was challenged.

"And for your punishment for being out after curfew tonight," he continued. "You three have detention with me directly after dinner."

"Brilliant!" Ron agreed. "That means less sneaking around."

 _No fear at all, these foolish Gryffindors,_ Snape thought as he shook his head. _If I were truly evil it would be so easy._


	9. Chapter 9 - Choices

A few days later, Snape heard Harry knock on his door after curfew. He had been expecting the boy, having sent him a note to come to him late that evening. Though, Snape realized that the fact that he knocked instead of just letting himself in as he normally would have done spoke to the fact that he knew how much trouble he was in.

"Enter," Snape intoned, not looking up from the essay he was grading.

The miscreant walked cautiously into his office, and Snape did not look up at him. He let Harry stand there for a few minutes as he finished grading the essay, even though he knew the boy was shifting uncomfortably. He wanted Harry to not ever want to risk doing such a thing again, and that meant a certain level of intimidation. And if there was one thing Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin, could do it was to intimidate children. Silence and being ignored would scare the boy more than Snape yelling.

When he had decided that Harry had shifted uncomfortably long enough, he stood. Then, still not looking up, he moved the essays aside and walked to the closet. He very slowly and deliberately took out the cane and also the slipper, and placed them both on the desk in front of him. He could feel Harry's anxiety peak, and only then did he look the boy in the face with a very stern glare.

"You may explain yourself now," he told the boy.

"Are you . . . are you going to cane me?" he asked, sounding to all the world like a young child.

"I have not decided yet," Snape answered. "I am unsure in this instance whether to punish you as your instructor or as your guardian. But as your instructor, you have certainly rated a caning."

"I guess I have," Harry admitted, feeling defeated. He wished he hadn't peeked like that.

"Surely you knew this was how it was going to end," Snape told him. "You have known me long enough to be acquainted with likely consequnces. Now explain why you did such an asinine thing."

Harry gulped, looking down in guilt. Snape felt very mollified to see that guilt, at least the boy understood what he had done. Part of him had feared that the boy would be angry and defiant, or even taunting about what he had seen. It calmed a great deal of his anger to see how much the boy was remorseful.

"I don't really have an explanation," Harry told him, still not looking up. "What I did was really wrong."

"Why did you do it?" Snape asked, his voice barely above a very dangerous whisper.

Harry shrugged, and Snape found himself having to use the firmest occlumency to not go and slap the boy across his face for his audacity. Shrugging! Well, the boy would know exactly what Snape thought of his recent behavior.

"I have endured a few days of your testing me," Snape told him with some semblance of calm once he was able to speak without spitting. "McGonagall has talked to me about your grades, though how she knew I was your guardian bears some investigation."

Squirming, Harry admitted, "Well, that was me. I didn't mean to do it, it just sort of slipped out."

"She is a safe person to tell," Snape acknowledged. "But I would like to know when you tell someone."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied.

"This meeting is about more than just last night," Snape told him firmly. "It seems you have been testing me in several ways this week. Would you like to confess or should I tell you about your rule breaking?"

Harry squirmed, saying, "I haven't been that bad."

"You threw spit-wads soaked in a reappearing ink solution at dinner," Snape told him. "And I ignored it, even when aimed at the Slytherins. Most didn't know they'd even been hit until spots appeared on their clothes an hour later."

Harry shifted, wishing he were invisible. "I didn't think you saw that," he admitted.

"I see everything," Snape assured him. "Like how you have refused to eat any vegetables for dinner this whole week, and how the house elves have told me that you are not in bed anywhere near a decent bedtime either. I was going to discuss these things with you last night after the occlumency lesson."

Harry turned red from shame, squirming where he stood. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"Have I missed anything?" Snape asked acerbically.

"No, sir," Harry answered, sounding contrite.

"You have not believed me when I have set up rules for your guardianship," Snape told him succinctly. "And I would have reprimanded you yesterday evening for it, perhaps with some lines or an essay. I had put thought into what would be a constructive consequence for you for your misbehaviors. But then you violated my trust more thoroughly than I could ever have imagined you doing."

Nodding sadly, Harry was surprised to find himself close to tears. "I guess you don't want to be my guardian anymore," he quietly said. "I don't blame you."

"You, Mr. Potter, do not get out of this that easily," Snape told him fiercely. "No ward of mine would be so spineless to give up like that. No, you will stay in this guardianship and face the consequences of your atrocious actions."

"Will you cane me?" he asked, a slight tremble in his voice.

"I ought to," Snape told him. "As your professor that should be the consequence for your actions. Can you honestly say that what you did last night was any less egregious than when attacked me last year?"

"I think it was probably worse," Harry admitted, still fighting tears. "I know I feel worse about it."

"Last year I took pity on you and you did not feel the consequences of your actions," Snape told him. "Though I believe my mercy was a bit of a surprise to you."

"It was," Harry admitted. "I was so scared, I didn't know what was going to happen. And then, when the cane fell, it didn't hurt."

"I felt your emotions had some justification that time," Snape explained. "You were distraught. I did not feel you had earned a caning, though I was obliged given the situation. But this situation is far different. This time you were not acting out of thinking Dumbledore was near death, this time you chose to act in a way intentionally to hurt me. I am quite angry with you."

"I thought last night you were going to kill me," Harry told him. "I've never seen you look like that, not even the time with the flying car."

"I was upset," Snape acknowledged. "The jar of cockroaches was actually accidental magic, I did not intend to have it explode near your head. I also knew enough last night that I could not be rational in your punishment, so I sent you away. If I had punished you last night, well, let's say that neither of us would have been happy about the outcome."

"I was really bad," Harry told him, seeming young. "You probably should have just belted me last night, I deserved it."

"It does not mater what you do," Snape told him calmly. "I am not going to abuse you. You deserve to be punished, yes, but you do not deserve abuse. Last night I was tempted to abuse you, and that is my fault, not yours. I sent you away because you deserve to be dealt with with me being rational, not with me that angry."

"I didn't sleep," Harry told Snape quietly. "I went back to my room and I was in such a state. I was worried that you were going to kill me, and then I was worried about if you didn't. Or if you were going to not want to be my guardian, or what the cost would be if you were still going to do it."

"I didn't sleep either," Snape told him, but did not expound on it. "If you have trouble sleeping again you may send an elf to me to fetch a sleeping potion."

"Don't do that," Harry said, his voice sounding tearful.

"Do what?" Snape asked.

"Be kind like that," Harry told him. "You shouldn't offer to help me when I've just . . . invaded your memories. You should hate me."

"My care for you as a guardian is not dependent on your behavior."

"I'm sorry," Harry told him, suddenly looking up. "Really and truly sorry. You've been so great – I mean it, you have. Great enough to make me worry that you might be hiding something bad from me. After so many years of being so hard on me, it was hard to believe you really meant the difference."

"That is something I can understand," Snape nodded. "I'm a Slytherin, please remember. It actually makes more sense to me than the blind trust your fellow Gryffindors show."

"The hat wanted to put me in Slytherin at first," Harry told him. "So I guess that makes sense."

"Why Gryffindor then?" Snape asked, the intrigue he felt overruling his sternness for a moment. It seemed unthinkable that the ultimate Gryffindor was almost one of his Slytherins. How would their relationship had been different if that had been the case?

"I had met Malfoy," Harry explained. "You know, before we were all sorted. I didn't like him and how he treated Ron, who had been so nice on the train. So I asked the Sorting Hat to put me anywhere but Slytherin, even though it insisted that Slytherin would make me great."

Snape nodded, and in truth that was probably the best for the boy. A true Slytherin would have chosen greatness over loyalty to an acquaintance of a few hours. That question in itself was probably a form of test – a true Gryffindor would choose loyalty with friends rather than the promises of greatness. And though the hat sometimes had interesting conversations as it sorted, it never actually made an error; even if it was adulthood before the student recognized the rightness of the placement.

"Well, I was thinking about whether it was real, I mean whether there was something in the pensieve that was incriminating. But what I found . . . I'm sorry professor. More than you realize."

"Then you realize the . . . personal nature of what you saw," Snape said, finding it harder to address what was in the pensieve than it had when he'd thought about what he wanted to say.

"I'm . . . yes, I realize it," Harry acknowledged. "I saw my dad being . . . well, being a total prat to you. And then my mum . . ."

"There is no reason for you to narrate it for me," Snape told him sharply. "Living through it was bad enough."

"It was," Harry answered honestly. "And I'm sorry that it was. I've been bullied too, it's awful."

This answer flustered Snape, Harry's answer of plain honesty made Snape feel an unexpected wrench of having the boy sympathize with him. The wall he had constructed around his heart and around these memories shook just a little. He was taken aback by the boy and found himself without words. He had expected this meeting with his ward would contain a stern lecture followed by a painful punishment, the punishment depending on how remorseful the boy proved to be. But this . . . sympathy . . .

"I'm not going to cane you unless you choose it," Snape told him, finding his voice again, and trying to make it seem stern and uncompromising. "This is a domestic issue, between guardian and ward, and therefore would rate a domestic punishment. I will use the slipper with you on my lap, unless you'd rather the cane."

It was Harry's turn to squirm now, and Snape knew that it would. He allowed the boy to squirm, not rushing his reaction.

"Trousers?" Harry asked, and Snape flinched a bit at that question. Harry pressed on, seemingly nervous and unsure. "Ron says that the slipper . . . well, it's usually . . . applied to bare skin."

"Trousers on," Snape told him. "The slipper has a charm on it to have the same impact as if your trousers weren't there."

"I would be an idiot to choose the cane," Harry told him.

"You would be," Snape agreed. "But you have made foolish choices before. You will choose whether you want me to handle this as your professor or as your guardian."

"You know why I don't want to be on your lap," Harry told him. "But I certainly don't want the cane either."

"You will have to choose," Snape told him.

* * *

 _AN: I realize that this is a bit of a cliffhanger, but this chapter was just getting way too big. It's also a nice parallel to the beginning chapters. :)_


	10. Chapter 10 - Fatherly

"I don't want to choose," Harry told him, his voice small. "Please. How often is the punishment the choice of the one punished?"

"I see," Snape nodded, feeling sympathy. He also had some small part of his brain with that bloody Granger in it that said that Harry had wanted to choose his lap before, but was afraid of rejection. Perhaps it was kinder to not give the lad a choice in the matter. "I was trying to give you some feeling of control with you being able to choose. But if that makes it harder, I will choose for you."

"Please do," Harry agreed, relieved. He didn't want the cane, but he also didn't want to say he wanted to bend over his guardian's lap either.

"Then you are getting the slipper," Snape told him. "I feel that in this issue it was more about me as your guardian than your instructor."

Harry paled, and nodded. He really hadn't wanted to choose, but this was the choice he had hoped Snape would make. Snape picked up the slipper deliberately, and walked to the sofa. He sat down slowly and deliberately, arranging his robes and then looking at the boy who was staring at him in fear.

"Come here," Snape ordered, looking at him directly.

Gulping, Harry obeyed. His leaden feet trudged over, and Snape didn't betray the first sign of impatience. Harry stood before Snape, looking down and waiting for violence. Snape wasn't having that, though. He wasn't going to wrestle Harry down, he wanted Harry to accept the consequence.

"Bend over my lap," Snape instructed, and then helped guide Harry into position. He felt the weight of the boy stomach down on his lap, and tucked a pillow under Harry's chest and face. He felt the boy's body tremble slightly, and take a deep breath as if to calm himself as he clutched the pillow.

Looking at the boy's backside presented for punishment, Snape felt a pang of sympathy for the boy. Even though he absolutely believed this was justice, there was a part of him that wished it didn't have to happen. Especially knowing how the boy had been abused before, and especially given that the he had only recently been given guardianship of the lad. Snape reflected that his feelings now were a far cry from the night before, when he had barely been able to keep himself from injuring the lad in his anger. He had made the right choice to send the boy away until he could regain his reason.

Setting his mind to the task before him and telling himself that sympathy would help Harry in the slightest in this circumstance, he wrapped one of his arms around Harry's torso to hold him firmly; feeling the boy flinch away from the touch. It wasn't lost on Snape that the boy seemed unused to touch, though in this situation Snape supposed that his touch would not be the most welcome at he would soon be smacking the boy's backside. He did not admit to himself that the flinch also made him feel sad in a way too. Snape, pushing those thoughts away forced himself to return to the task at hand: making the boy regret his impetuous actions.

"For what it's worth," Harry told him, burying his face in the pillow. "I really am sorry."

"And that is truly why you're getting the slipper and not the cane," Snape replied. "But there is still such a thing as justice. You made the choice to violate my privacy, and you will pay the price for that choice."

With that, Snape brought the slipper down on the awaiting backside, causing Harry to hiss and flinch. Snape continued the spanking sternly, with a steady and uncompromising rhythm, covering Harry's backside with stern, measured smacks. At first Snape could sense Harry trying to hold himself as still as possible, not moving beyond flinching. And then, as the spanking continued, Harry started to change. At first his leg kicked a bit, and then Harry was actually squirming on his lap.

Snape rarely spanked a student on his lap, and when he did it was often a nervous first year. He usually reprimanded students for moving too much during their punishment, but something made him hesitate. Watching the stoic and frozen response Harry had before the paddle, Snape made a conscious decision not to correct Harry's squirming. He let the boy squirm and kick, and just kept relentlessly applying the slipper.

"Ouch!" Harry protested. "Please professor! I'm sorry!"

"You should be," Snape continued, smacking his upper thighs sternly.

Harry started fighting more, but still Snape kept this tight grip on him. He then felt Harry's lungs begin to hitch, and he was sure the boy's face was beginning to wet with tears. Still he continued, though he knew he was near the end. He wanted Harry to cry. This spanking was perhaps a few more swats than Harry had gotten last time, but he was acting so differently in fighting back. Snape had to smile internally at it – this was certainly not the child that had shocked Snape by holding stiff and silent before. There was a way he was feeling that Harry fighting him and him holding him still was a way of containing Harry – as if Harry had never been able to protest before. This spanking certainly smarted, but not nearly as much as to warrant Harry fighting him like this. But this was testing too – could he handle Harry's protesting?

And then it ended, with Snape laying the slipper beside him on the sofa, relaxing his hold on the torso of the sobbing boy. Snape was struck by how much younger Harry seemed like this – as if he were actually a young child. Harry made no move to get up, and Snape let him stay on his lap with Snape's hand resting gently on the boy's back.

"I'm sorry," Harry sniffed as he got control of himself. "I was such a baby."

"It is perfectly fine," Snape replied, patting his back. "I can take it. You don't have to hold still and quiet."

"It wasn't even that bad," Harry sniffed again, still not getting up. "I mean, you did a proper job and all. But I thought it would be much worse."

"It could have been," Snape told him. "This was mercy. Don't do it again, though."

"I won't!" Harry promised.

"So was it that bad to be on my lap?" Snape asked him, leaning back in the sofa.

Harry scooted down a bit on the sofa, leaving part of his torso on Snape and turning a bit. Snape was surprised, since Harry had seemed to object so much to being on his lap, and now seemed quite cozy on it. "Not like I thought," Harry admitted. "It was much . . . better, really. I mean, while you were smacking I mostly was just thinking about how much my bum hurt. And then, I don't know, I wanted to kick a bit. And you held me."

"I did," Snape acknowledged. "Let me make a guess; you were not allowed to move at all when your Uncle punished you."

"If I did I would get double," Harry softly answered. "No matter how much it hurt, I held still."

"It is very hard to deny your body and do that," Snape told him. "You had to have very firm control in order to do it."

"I guess."

"Harry, that's the basis for Occlumency."

"It is?" he asked.

"It's how I learned it," Snape answered, not expanding on that particular topic. "I want you to think about one of the times with your Uncle. It should be easier with a sore backside to put yourself in the memory."

"I really hate those memories," Harry grumbled.

"I know, but you're safe here," Snape told him. "Trust me. Think about that time."

Harry closed his eyes, and thought about the last time that his Uncle had taken a strap to him. He had burned the breakfast because he'd run to use the bathroom when nobody was looking. But he had been caught, and the consequences had been painful indeed. "I'm thinking about it," Harry mumbled.

"Tell me details," Snape told him. "Even ones you don't think are important."

"It was in the kitchen," Harry told him. "I'd snuck off to use the loo while I was cooking, but I'm not supposed to do that. Wasn't supposed to use the bathroom until people were eating breakfast. But I had to go so bad . . . well, the bacon got crispier than it was supposed to be. Uncle Vernon liked his bacon soft and just a little crispy, I had mastered it years ago. But before I could start his pieces over Uncle Vernon smelled it, and when he came in he started yelling. He grabbed the pan, but it was the cast iron pan so he burnt his hand. His face became red . . . almost purple. I was trapped, my back crashed into the edge of the worktop. He shoved me down . . . took off his belt . . ."

"And you froze," Snape prompted.

"Trying to run makes it worse," Harry said, his voice sounding young and soft. "Once Uncle Vernon had decided on a beating, the best thing to do was to stay still and quiet and endure it. And I could tell he'd decided on the beating."

"Did it hurt?" Snape pushed.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked incredulously. "I was sore for days."

"Afterwards, of course," Snape nodded. "But did it hurt at the time?"

"I don't remember," Harry answered, confused. "I don't remember exactly."

"What did you remember?" Snape pressed gently.

"I remember Uncle Vernon knocking over a mug," Harry answered. "He actually knocked several things over in the process. He even hit the light fixture a few times when he really swung the belt high. But the mug, when it fell, well, the handle broke off. The handle was near where my face was pressing into the floor. I focused on the broken handle. That's what I remember."

"That's a form of Occlumency," Snape explained. "You knew you had to not react to the beating, so your magic formed a shield in your mind to not feel the pain so you could endure the beating and not react. You focused on something else, using that focus to separate your mind and your body."

"So can I use that to do Occlumency with you for lessons?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Snape answered. "That's actually the core of what you do for Occlumency."

"Try it!" Harry exclaimed, sitting up excitedly and then wincing as his backside made contact with the couch. "Ouch," he rubbed his bottom, with a slightly accusing tone towards Snape.

"You deserved it," Snape told him, leveling his eyes at Harry. "Now prepare yourself. Legilimens!"

Harry felt the intrusion, as he had before, but this time it felt different. He focused on the image of the broken mug handle, and he was able to separate his mind; Snape couldn't enter. He felt Snape pressing on the boundary, but not get past it.

"Excellent! You now have a basic shield!" Snape praised him. "I could still break it if I tried, but it is remarkably sturdy for your first one."

"What happens if you break it?" Harry asked.

"It would be unpleasant for you," Snape told him. "And I believe I've inflicted enough unpleasantness on you this evening. There is a lot more to occlumency for you to work on, but this is the first real progress we've made."

"So that's what you mean by clearing my mind?" Harry asked. "Those are the exercises to do before bed?"

"Yes," Snape told him. "Exactly it. Practice that every night before bed, and hopefully it will help with those dreams."

"I'll do it!" Harry replied, happy to have made progress.

"Is your backside alright or do you need a potion to sleep tonight?" Snape asked him straightforwardly, as if asking which salad dressing he wanted.

"It's not that bad, professor," Harry grinned at him, cheeky. "I mean, it still stings a bit, but its not that bad. Certainly not bad enough to have some foul-tasting potion. After the paddle, though, that I would have taken you up on."

"I am glad you're recovered," Snape nodded solemnly.

"That's how Ron's dad punishes him, you know," Harry said, trying to sound casual. "The slipper, I mean. Over the lap."

"Did it feel fatherly?" Snape asked him, surprised by his own question. Why would he wonder if he was fatherly enough to Potter?

"I think so," Harry answered. "I mean, I've never had a father so I don't really know. But how Ron talks about it – well, like he'd rather not get it but that it doesn't really make him resent his dad or anything. I think probably because he usually feels bad about whatever he did, and his dad doesn't do it unless he really rates it, you know? So yeah, I think maybe it did feel . . . well, fatherly."

"And you made such a fuss about it over the summer."

"Things are different now," Harry told him. "You want to be my guardian, not just some random professor at my school bent on making me behave myself."

"I believe I did an adequate job at that," Snape told him. "You didn't prank the Dursley's after my intervention."

Harry snorted. "I would have been a nutter to tempt fate like that!"

"Well, tempting fate or not, you've now had your lecture, smacking, and even your make-up lesson," Snape told him firmly. "I believe bedtime is now in order."

"Already?" Harry asked, surprised.

"I believe a reasonable bedtime was one of my rules," Snape intoned. "So unless you'd like to stay here for the night, it's best you get back to your tower."

Snape was taken aback by the look of interest in the boy's eye – he actually wouldn't have minded staying with Snape! What had he gotten himself into, being a ward for an emotional Gryffindor? What was next – slumber parties? Exchanging encouraging notes back and forth? Hot cocoa in front of the fire together?

"Good night, Mr. Potter," Snape told him, clearly saying that a slumber party was not an option.

"Good night, Professor," Harry answered. "I really am sorry about what I did to you."

"You are forgiven," Snape told him, softening a little. "But you know what to expect should it happen again."

"Like I'm that daft!" Harry snorted. "I'd just as soon not get that slipper again."

"Then I will see you tomorrow night for your lesson," Snape told him. "You may bring your sidekicks if necessary."

"Great!" Harry agreed. "See you then."

Harry left the office then, wrapped in his cloak, and giving his bottom an unconscious rub as he made his way back to the tower.


	11. Chapter 11 - The Offer

_AN: Thank you for all of the great support I've gotten, it makes writing and posting such a joy when people interact with my work. The last chapter was an emotional one for me to write, and basically it was Snape admitting his abuse was the basis for his occlumency. I've always felt that's why he was unable to teach Harry in canon, because it stemmed from abuse; both at his father's hand and as the target for the marauders. Being vulnerable to Harry about that abuse would have been too hard in canon, and so he wasn't able to teach him._

 _I had a version of this next chapter slated later in the story, and a comment from reviewer StEmpois made me think that this might be a more logical time to address this after all. I also needed a chat with Dumbledore as a bridge to the next part, so this chapter was born._ _J Comments from readers often make me think differently about my characters and story and can lead to a much richer writing experience for me and (hopefully!) reading experience for you. Thanks!_

* * *

Snape entered the room, barely glancing at the headmaster, and began removing his complicated robe with many buttons.

"Good evening, Severus," Dumbledore greeted him, his eyes dancing.

"I need you to beat me," Snape answered him curtly. "Use whatever you have handy – a cane or a whip. I don't care."

"Why do you want me to beat you?" Dumbledore asked, as calmly as if Snape was ordering new potion supplies.

"I am sick of the hypocrisy and guilt," Snape snapped at him, succeeding with the last tiny button and shucking off his outer robe. He knew he could easily remove the clothes magically, but there was something earthy and normal about removing them by hand that he wanted. "I'm sick of being in the position of smacking my ward and giving him forgiveness and getting none myself."

"So you thought that me beating you might give you some measure of the absolution you're seeking," Albus reflected, watching Snape remove his vest.

"Obviously," Snape drawled, looking the headmaster in the face. "Do you want me bent over your desk?"

"And for what sins would I be punishing you?" Dumbledore asked. "And why are you coming to me for this?"

"You are the only one who bloody knows everything!" Snape snapped at him. "Who else knows about the prophecy and Lily? Who else knows my true loyalties and the reasons I've been so hard on Harry? Who else knows the resentment I harbor towards James Potter?"

"I see," Dumbledore nodded. "I am the logical choice then. Are there any more sins you'd like to confess or is that about it?"

"I was horrible to him," Snape said in a small voice. "I had convinced myself that I was justified, that it was part of my cover. That I deserved the privilege of being horrendous to the son of my enemy. Nobody would dispute what James Potter did to me in school – and now his son was at my mercy and would pay for any humiliation I had suffered. So I bullied him, corrected him, even tormented him. Yes, I protected him out of my obligation to his mother, but there was not a concern about anything else. I gave not a second thought to how his relatives might be treating him and I assumed him to be a lying, egotistical brat. I was so very wrong."

"You were," Dumbledore told him kindly.

"So beat me already," Snape told him harshly. "Or would you prefer my shirt removed? I can take it."

"Of that I have no doubt," Dumbledore nodded. "You can take pain more than anybody else I've ever met."

"Then get on with it," Snape demanded impatiently.

"You make the offer extremely tempting," Dumbledore said softly. "Your bristly persona almost dares me to. But I'm afraid that I will have to decline the offer."

"This is not a bloody offer!" Snape thundered. "I am standing here ready to take my punishment like a man, and you are refusing to dish it out!"

"Is it really like a man?" Dumbledore asked, his voice still soft. "Or is it as a boy? A boy that was perhaps abused by his father and rejected by his classmates?"

"You speak in riddles, Headmaster," Snape answered, his eyes narrowing to let Dumbledore know he knew exactly what the Headmaster was referencing. "I know not what you are referring to."

"You are seeking absolution as a child," Dumbledore continued. "And in the only way you know of for a child raised with such brutality. But the absolution I could give you with a cane is not the absolution you seek."

"It's not?" Snape asked, for the first time dropping the usual anger and sarcasm.

"It's not," Dumbledore confirmed. "Your body would hurt for a time, but you would know deeply that you hadn't truly paid for it. If, when Harry wronged you and looked in your pensieve, you had just beaten him bloody - would that have fixed everything?"

"Not really," Snape admitted.

"Of course not," Dumbledore nodded. "His pain didn't pay for anything, it absolved him of nothing. How did he earn your forgiveness?"

"His apology," Snape answered, feeling very young and stupid. "But mostly I think it was that I saw that it grieved him that he hurt me."

"Exactly," Dumbledore answered him. "The punishment you gave Harry was as a deterrent, and perhaps to help him along to that place of remorse. Adolescents sometimes have a harder time understanding those deterrents without someone reinforcing those boundaries, which is why discipline can be helpful. A beating would do you no good, as you have a far more effective deterrent than a cane and you are already deeply in a place of remorse."

"What deterrent?" Snape asked, again feeling stupid.

"You obviously care for the boy," Dumbledore told him. "Hurting him is enough of a deterrent for it not to happen again."

"He doesn't know that," Snape objected.

"He knows more than you think," the headmaster told him with a twinkling eye. "Which is also why I'm going to recommend that you apologize to him."

"Apologize?" Snape echoed, feeling horrified.

"Of course," Dumbledore nodded. "It's what civilized people do when they've wronged another."

"But I can't apologize," Snape told him. "I am his guardian; he would lose all respect for me."

"Many people erroneously think that apologizing compromises them in the eyes of others," Dumbledore agreed. "But I have found that rarely to be the case. How did you feel when I apologized to you for not being able to keep Lily safe?"

"I saw how much it grieved you," Snape admitted. "I saw your sorrow as well as your own regret."

"Did you think any less of me?" Dumbledore asked. "Would you have felt better had I blamed others and denied my involvement?"

"Of course not," Snape agreed reluctantly. "It would have been much worse. But it was different – you didn't really do anything wrong. You tried your best; I didn't."

"I believe that those that are guiltier need to apologize even more," Dumbledore gently told him. "Imagine what it would mean to Harry to have his guardian, the one is is learning to like and respect, actually apologize for the harm he'd caused. Do you think Harry forgot how you were to him his first several years?"

"No," Snape agreed reluctantly. "But I always thought it best not to bring it up."

"For your sake or for Harry's sake?" Dumbledore asked, pushing.

Snape didn't answer, he was lost in thought. He fingered the fabric of the vest he'd removed, thinking how much easier it would have been if Dumbledore had simply agreed to beat him.

"I'm not telling him about the prophecy yet," Snape told Dumbledore, and they both recognized the admission in the statement.

"All in good time," Dumbledore answered. "He doesn't need to know of it yet."

"I will think on this," Snape nodded, though they both knew that was merely a formality.

"I also have some penance for you in addition to your apology," Dumbledore continued. "I think you should accompany Harry on his visit with his Godfather."

"What?!" he asked in shock. "Why would I do that?"

"I think it would be good for Harry to see you two cooperating," Dumbledore told him. "I have informed Sirius and Lupin of the guardianship, and they are most eager to talk with Harry, and of course with you."

"They likely are planning on how to get revenge on me," Snape bitterly predicted. "I will be lucky if I come back in one piece."

"You have to allow for some maturation," Dumbledore told him calmly. "I know they treated you unfairly in school, but things are different now."

"Less accountability?" Snape snarled. "They don't fear detention?"

"Don't you see?" Dumbledore chided him gently. "You hold in your hands the one thing either of them values – Harry. They are desperate to have some good rapport with you because they know that you are tasked with caring for and protecting someone they would, either of them, gives their lives to protect."

"Likely story."

"I doubt there is much I can do to convince you," Dumbledore acknowledged. "But trust me in this: they love that boy. Fiercely. Either of them would care for Harry if they could, and both are lamenting the fact that they can't. Both of them are feeling remorseful for how they treated you, and both want to have time with Harry."

"They're probably just worried that I'll take out my anger towards them on Harry," Snape acknowledged darkly.

"Oh, you mean like you did before?"

Snape glared in defensiveness, not daring to acknowledge the truth of the situation.

"You have your punishment, then," Dumbledore directed him mildly. "And one that will do a lot better than stripes on your body. You must learn to work with Sirius and Remus, and you must figure out how to apologize to Harry."

"It would be much easier to be beaten," Snape sniffed.

"Of course it would, my boy," Dumbledore chuckled. "But you need to be a grown-up now. And unfortunately that means that you have to take responsibility for your part in the relationships that you are in."

"I wanted to take responsibility how I wanted to do it," Snape complained.

"I would be careful what you offer to me, my boy," Dumbledore chuckled. "Someday I may take you up on it."

"I wouldn't offer something I didn't want," Snape told him acerbically.

"Of course you would," Dumbledore told him. "You don't really want me to beat you, you simply want to feel less guilty."

"It would have worked," Snape replied grumpily.

"Well, let's see if my recommendations work better than your ideas," Dumbledore smiled. "Tomorrow is Saturday, that would make a good day for a visit."

"They had bloody well better not apologize," Snape snarled at Dumbledore, knowing that he'd been beaten. Sighing, he began to re-dress himself.

"I would think that would mollify you," Dumbledore smiled.

"It would only be to ease their guilty conscience," Snape grumbled, fussing with the buttons. "I have no desire to lessen their guilt in any way."

"I understand that's how you feel," Dumbledore told him levelly. "I am glad that, for your sake, Harry is of a more forgiving bent than his guardian is."

Snape glared again, silently buttoning up his cloak. Though there was a part of him that very much enjoyed the fussiness of his wardrobe, this was one moment that he wasn't liking it one bit. He wanted out of Dumbledore's office, but he wanted out fully clothed. Sighing, a flick of his wand sent the rest of the buttons gracefully buttoning.

"You ask the impossible, old man," he straightened his vest and then swept his robes dramatically as he left towards the door.

"Every day, my boy," Dumbledore answered. "Every blessed day."


	12. Chapter 12 - Tea and Butterbeer

Snape wasn't sure what would make him more uncomfortable, a meeting with an unhappy Voldemort or having to make nice with a visit to Sirius Black. On one hand, he could likely out-duel Black if it came down to it, and Black was much less likely to use the cruciatus. However, at least with Voldemort he knew he was a double agent and a spy – clearly defined roles. How was he supposed to treat his childhood tormentor when his ward clearly loved the man? Snape wasn't looking forward to it and for the hundredth time wished Dumbledore had just caned him like a decent person would have done.

"Do you think I could maybe spend the night with Sirius sometime?" Harry asked as they got ready to apparate.

"Perhaps," Snape answered austerely. "We will see if he is capable."

Harry looked chagrined for a moment, and then turned to Snape deliberately. "I know this has got to be hard on you," he said quietly. "I did see what was in the pensieve."

"It was a long time ago," Snape sniffed.

"It was," Harry agreed. "But I still know this is hard. I just wanted to say thanks for doing it."

"You're welcome, Mr. Potter," Snape nodded, again being surprised by Harry's perception. "It is perhaps good that I should meet with . . . the other people in your life. The Headmaster seemed to think cooperation was possible."

"Wouldn't that be brilliant?" Harry smiled, mollified.

Snape didn't answer, not trusting himself to answer as adult Severus and not teenage Severus. He took the hand that Harry offered him and apparated away.

"Welcome!" they heard Lupin greet them as they landed in the front hallway of Grimmauld Place. "Harry! Professor Snape! It is so good to see you! Thank you for coming!"

"Mr. Lupin," Snape acknowledged with a curt nod. He also saw the intelligence of having Lupin greet them first, they knew that Snape actually respected Lupin a great deal more than Black.

"Professor!" Harry greeted him happily, running up and allowing himself to be roughly hugged by the werewolf.

"Not your professor anymore, Harry," Lupin smiled wanly. "You can call me Remus now."

Even as Snape winced as Lupin offered him such a disrespectful intimacy of calling an adult by their first name, he watched the easy intimacy that Harry showed Lupin with an unfamiliar pang. Surely this man would have been a better guardian for the boy than the bat of the dungeons, and Harry surely knew that as well.

"Is Sirius here too?" he asked eagerly.

"He is," Lupin acknowledged. "He's waiting in the sitting room with some snacks, I believe."

Grinning, Harry followed Lupin eagerly into the sitting room. Snape followed as well, sweeping his robes and faintly surprised that he had experienced a civil greeting. They walked into the parlor, painfully tidied but still very shabby and dark, and saw that some snacks had been carefully laid out on the table. Bottles of butterbeer edged the table which held chocolate frogs and an assortment of biscuits. Snape sighed in relief when he spotted a teapot in the corner, glad that he had some respectable option for socializing.

"Harry!" Sirius greeted him as Harry flew into his arms. Snape shifted uncomfortably as he watched his arch-enemy hug his ward, and how happy they were to see each other.

"Sirius!" Harry responded, his face full of joy.

Snape found himself wondering what it would be like to have a child look at him like that, keeping that idea abstract and not letting it burrow deeper. Harry broke the hug, and then unexpectedly turned towards Snape.

"Sirius, isn't it great that the Professor is my guardian now?" he asked in an excited voice. "He's been brilliant!"

"Yes, Harry," Lupin rescued Black. "We are very pleased that you have someone looking out for you. And Professor Snape is a formidable wizard, and a good friend of your mother's. We believe he will do a great job."

"I wish it could have been me," Sirius said baldly, his eyes full of regret. "You know why I can't, don't you Harry?"

"I understand," Harry nodded. "And you too, Remus."

"It's not that we don't care about you," Remus continued. "Either of us would be your guardian in a second if we were allowed to do it."

"Of course," Harry nodded. "I know this."

"So on that note, we are very grateful to you, Professor, for caring for Harry when we couldn't," Lupin nodded towards Snape.

"Look, Remus and I had planned to be all civil and everything and very politely acknowledge our past faults, but I am bloody bad at civility," Sirius admitted. "Look, Snape, we know we were right arses to you when we were in school, and that you have every right to hate us forever."

"Sirius, we talked about this . . ."

"I know you said not to put Harry between us," Sirius said. "But I think Snape would rather we were honest. Everyone knows our history, and everyone knows how much we care about Harry. Can't we just talk honestly about it?"

"Harry, let's see if we can get some milk for the tea," Lupin directed him out the door. "Let's give these two some time to talk."

"Do you think it's safe?" Harry asked. "I mean . . ."

"Your Godfather is safe with me," Snape told him with a sneer. "I can disarm him without harming him if necessary."

"I promise not to harm your guardian," Sirius replied. "I'm trying to bloody apologize to the man."

"Come on, Harry," Lupin urged. "I think this is between the two of them."

The two men dressed in black faced each other, both wondering what the other was going to say. Snape waited – he knew that the Gryffindor impetuousness would work in his favor.

"I'm an arse," Sirius told him, putting his hands behind his back. "I was an arse to you in school, and have gotten myself into a position where I can't care for the person I care about the most."

"That is not my fault," Snape told him, looking at him with calculation.

"Of course it isn't!" Black nearly yelled. "It's all my damn fault! I should have been the one raising Harry, not those bloody muggles. And I should have been the one protecting him, not you."

"I see," Snape told him. "I was friends with Lily."

"I know," Sirius answered, looking horrifyingly defeated and a bit old. "I know that. You who was picked on and abused has come through to care for Harry in a way we never did, or were able to. You're a bloody hero, Severus Snape."

Snape, quite taken aback by the lack of sarcasm in that statement, wasn't sure how to reply. He folded his hands and waited to see if there was more.

"I am not going to pretend that I would have apologized to you if you weren't in the position you're in with Harry," Sirius acknowledged. "I'm not going to insult your intelligence. But I do want you to know that I'm willing to put everything aside for Harry's good."

"How touching," Snape drawled.

"Look, we're men of action, not sentiment," Sirius told him. "Let's not get mushy here. I've acknowledged my fault, and we need to work together. I don't expect us to be friends, but maybe we can work on a mutual lack of active annihilation attempts."

"That might be acceptable," Snape nodded, actually feeling somewhat mollified. He realized that what he had told Dumbledore – that he didn't want an apology – was somewhat untrue and self-protective. Maybe working with the – shudder – remaining marauders wouldn't be the punishment that he had envisioned.

"But before we bring in the other two mushier ones, I want to extract a promise from you," Sirius said, looking down. "I know I have no right to ask, but I think you might like it anyway."

"What's that?"

"Promise me that if it looks like Harry is going to be formally accused you will tell me. I will take the blame."

"Are you insane?" Snape asked, aghast.

"I'm already a convicted felon with little chance of correcting that," Sirius admitted. "What is one more crime?"

"How do you plan on incriminating yourself?"

"I have my ways," he smiled sadly. "Just promise me that you'll let me know."

"Of course," Snape told him. "You realize that you are trusting me a great deal with this promise."

"I have a confession to make," Sirius admitted. "I've learned what you did for Harry with the Dursleys. Even though you're a Snake and have every reason to hate me, I know you wouldn't do something to hurt Harry. So yes, I think I can trust you."

Snape found himself at a loss on how to answer him. Never in a million years would he think this would be the conversation he would have with Sirius Black. He had given even odds that this conversation would end in a duel.

"You are very unpredictable, Black," Snape acknowledged.

"Lupin said you'd come here expecting us to still be sixteen," Sirius snorted, though he looked a bit uncomfortable. "But I told him that so much has happened, you'd know that. We aren't the same people that pranked each other all those years ago."

"It was four against one," Snape sneered at him. "That's not exactly harmless pranks."

"And you held your own most of the time," Sirius snorted at him. "Who else could say that? You were a formidable enemy, Snape."

"And you made my life miserable, Black."

"We did," Black acknowledged. "And we've both been through hell since then. Let me be honest Snape, even if I could legally do it, I don't know if I could be Harry's guardian. I haven't slept a night through without nightmares. If it's not about dementors, it's that horrid night . . ."

Snape found unexpected pity spring up inside him, and he questioned how he could ever feel pity for his enemy. Had he truly gone soft?

"Do you have potions to help?" he asked quietly.

"Lupin has snagged what he can," Sirius admitted. "Neither of us are very good at brewing."

"I'll send along some dreamless sleep," Snape told him. "I have to brew some for the infirmary anyway, it won't be missed. It's not good to use every night, but when you need it it might be useful."

"Thanks," Sirius replied awkwardly, obviously as uncomfortable with the situation as Snape. "You don't have to."

"Of course I don't have to," Snape snapped. "And I promise to let you know if Harry is formally charged. Of course, I would encourage you to let my investigative skills work to your benefit as well. You may not have to be the fatted calf, as it were."

"What?" Sirius asked blankly.

"How about you let me do my job and find the killer before you sacrifice whatever chance you have at a relatively normal life?" Snape asked him. "Use a bit of thought instead of Gryffindor bravado."

"Normal life?" Sirius snorted. "I'm shut up in a decaying hideaway with a demented house elf and occasional visits from members of the order. I'm no bloody use to anyone! Least of all Harry, who is facing murder charges for the second time in as many years!"

"So your solution is to sacrifice yourself?" Snape demanded. "How do you think that boy that you purport to love would feel if he knew that you sacrificed yourself for him?"

"I hadn't thought of that," Sirius admitted, coming up short.

"It is much harder to stay in relationship with someone than it is to sacrifice for someone," Snape told him, less harshly this time. "Which do you think Harry would prefer?"

Just then, they heard a loud cough to announce that Lupin and Harry were about to re-enter the room. Lupin entered carrying the aforementioned milk, and Lupin served Snape a cup of tea and a biscuit. Relieved to have something to do with his hands in an awkward situation, Snape accepted the cup and quietly ran a detection charm on it before drinking. Lupin and Sirius ignored the charm, helping themselves and Harry to the other snacks.

"Now that Sirius has had his chance," Lupin cleared his throat. "Professor Snape, I would also like to render to you my deepest apology for how we acted when we were in school. We were young and foolish, but that was no excuse for the cruelty we displayed. I hope at some point to be able to earn your forgiveness."

Snape, overwhelmed by the civility showed to him, sipped his tea with consternation. "Do Gryffindors always begin social occasions by apologizing for past wrongs?" he asked blithely, with light sarcasm.

Laughing, Lupin fixed a cup of tea for himself. "Only when outwitted by Slytherins," he replied.

"So very rarely," Sirius added, chuckling. "Harry, have you tried the chocolate biscuits? They're my favorite."

And so on the conversation went, pleasant and warm, as if they were a group of old friends that were socializing after a long absence. Harry told them about school and about his friends, though eventually the conversation had to turn towards harder issues.

"So they think that I have some connection to the dark Lord," Harry told them. "Professor Snape has been teaching me occlumency to try and help."

"Occlumency as a fifth year?" Remus echoed, shocked.

"It is necessary," Snape told them, smoothing down his robe. "And Mr. Potter seems . . . adept at it once we could unlock his potential."

"That's tricky magic," Remus frowned. "How do you 'unlock' it?"

"It was after the Professor punished me," Harry told them, blithely stating what made Snape cringe a bit. How would the Gryffindors respond to Snape's parenting methods?

"Punished you?" Sirius interrupted, suddenly concerned. "How did he punish you?"

 _AN: Hi everyone! I went on vacation and now I'm back. Thanks again for all the great interactions and reviews, they make writing such a pleasure. I have a question in how Sirius comes across - and this chapter was hard for me in a lot of ways. I've written Sirius as mostly crazy or as continually angry and vengeful and angry towards Snape; but this time I really wanted him to be able to be somewhat calculating and realize that he has to work with Snape in order to please Harry. Is this too radical of a shift for his character or do you think he'd really be able to do this? feedback on this question would be greatly appreciated! Thanks! Also, sorry for cliffie here, the next chapter should be up tomorrow or the next day._


	13. Chapter 13 - Explanations

_AN: Thank you guys so much for your feedback! It gave me confidence to continue with this different type of Sirius, and it's sort of important for the plot that he's this way. Thanks!_

* * *

Harry blushed a little, realizing that he should have anticipated that question. "Well," he hesitated. "Professor Snape spanked me. With a slipper."

"He what?" Sirius bellowed, his rage increasing. "He beat you?"

"No, nothing like that . . ." Harry tried to interrupt the mounting rage.

Suddenly, Sirius was frozen, and the icy blue sheen of a _Petrificus Totalis_ spell shimmered over the man. Snape, who had drawn his wand almost unconsciously but not cast, looked in surprise at Lupin, who had obviously cast the spell.

"He told me to do that if he was about to go off," Lupin explained with a shrug. "I mean, he's really trying his best to be mature, but the man has his limits."

"He has certainly been on his best behavior," Snape acknowledged. "Surprisingly so."

"There is nothing he wouldn't do for Harry," Lupin explained. "Even trusting you. Though I must say his first reaction to the news of the guardianship wasn't exactly so mature."

"I can only imagine," Snape nodded.

"Okay, Harry," Lupin continued in his calm voice. "What you said sounds a little worrisome to us, so maybe you can help us understand. What happened?"

"I did something, well, something bl . . . something extremely stupid. When the Professor was teaching me Occlumency he took out some memories that he didn't want me to see and put them in a pensieve. Then, when he was away, I . . . well, I peeked. I knew I shouldn't have."

"I take it the memories were embarrassing in nature?" Lupin asked calmly.

"Yes," Harry told him. "I don't want to say what they are, but I will say that if two hadn't apologized to the Professor I would have asked you to do it."

"I see," Remus replied, nodding. "So they were memories of how we treated him in school. That was not our greatest hour, though it does help us to know that you've seen them. So then what happened?"

"Well, he came back and pulled me out," Harry admitted, his ears tinged pink with embarrassment. "He was so mad that a jar of cockroaches exploded near me, well, as accidental magic. He sent me away 'cause he said he was too mad to discipline me. That night was awful – I couldn't sleep, I was so worried that he wouldn't want to be my guardian again. He called me back the next night and gave me the choice of a school punishment or a guardian one, the school being the cane and the guardian being the slipper over his lap. I was actually relieved; I had been so worried he wouldn't want me anymore that being punished actually felt really good in comparison. I felt guilty too, so I felt like I deserved it. So then he gave me a good smacking with the slipper and told me he forgave me."

"You must really like having the Professor as a guardian for you to be so worried," Lupin observed.

"Of course!" Harry exclaimed. "He's been great. And after that, well, after my punishment he had me use a memory of a time that Uncle Vernon had . . . well, had beaten me to show me how to do Occlumency. It worked."

"We had heard that your Uncle had beaten you," Lupin said, obviously trying to keep his voice calm.

"All the time," Harry shrugged. "And that hurt for a long time. And afterwards I would have the marks for at least a week."

"Had the Professor disciplined you before?" Lupin asked calmly. "Smacked you, I mean?"

Snape unexpectedly felt his stomach drop a little at the question, and he found himself wondering why he would care what these two thought about his discipline techniques. McGonagall rarely used physical discipline, was it something all Gryffindors objected to? Was this the issue that would spark the duel?

"Ron, Hermione and I got the paddle last year for stealing potion ingredients," Harry admitted, a little embarrassed. "He said he was giving me the cane last year when I punched him, but he did it just for looks. He said that he understood why I attacked him and that I didn't really deserve the cane, but that it was expected; so he cast a spell so it didn't hurt me. And then this summer he used the slipper once on me once when me and one of the Weasley twins was pranking the Dursleys in kind of mean ways. He was very nice about it."

"Most kids don't say their guardian was kind about smacking them."

"He doesn't smack _that_ hard," Harry rolled his eyes a little. "And the first time with the slipper, well, he wanted me to bend over his lap, and I, well, I really didn't want to. I don't get touched by people a lot, you know? I thought, well, I thought that it would make me feel like he was my father or something."

"Would that have been so bad?" Lupin asked, confused.

"It's so hard to want something you don't think you're going to get," Harry said quietly, looking down. "It's easier to try and not want it."

"I see," Lupin nodded. "That must have been hard. It's why I don't date anybody, it's better not to know a woman I can't have a future with."

Harry nodded. "So he let me lean over the bed instead. And then when he smacked me this time, I was over his lap, but it felt okay. You know, since he's signed up to be my guardian, it felt okay that I felt that way."

"Okay," Lupin smiled. "Good. So, when he smacked you, did it hurt for a long time afterwards?"

"I was just a bit tender the next day after the paddle," Harry admitted. "But I could sit and everything without a problem, it was just a twinge or two. The slipper was less than even that. I mean, it hurt when applied," he glanced at the Professor, as if assuring him it was an adequate punishment. "But an hour or two later it was completely gone. It wasn't that bad at all."

Lupin then turned to Snape, his manner still calm. "Why the paddle?" he asked. "I thought the cane was the usual school disciplinary instrument."

"I got it from a professor from America," Snape explained. "I thought it better than the cane in that although it does make quite an impression, it doesn't leave the marks and lasting pain that a cane does. I feel it is more humane. I only use the cane if required."

"That actually seems reasonable to me," Remus agreed, turning back to Harry. "I'm glad you didn't get the cane, I've had it a time or two and it's brutal."

Harry nodded. "I was so scared when I thought Professor Snape was going to cane me, especially when McGonagall told Snape that he had her blessing to do it. I mean, I know that it is something that happens on occasion when someone does something bad enough to get expelled, but it shocked me that she was alright with it."

"She's softened a bit in her old age," Lupin smiled. "When we were in school corporal punishment was applied a bit more often, and even by her on occasion. It would probably shock your guardian to know that the marauders received it a few times ourselves."

"Really?" Snape asked, his eyebrows raised. "It's hard to imagine you were ever held accountable for your actions."

"We wouldn't exactly have told you, would we?" Lupin replied, his eyes dancing a bit. Then, he sobered as he thought of what else Harry had said, and asked in his soft voice again, "So, it sounds as if your Uncle Vernon wasn't so reasonable in his punishments."

"He wasn't," Harry admitted. "I think he was trying to beat the magic out of me. He used the strap or his hands mostly, though I've been hit with the frying pan a few times by Aunt Petunia. Though she stopped that as much after she knocked me out for a few hours once."

"I see," Lupin nodded. "I heard that the Professor had helped in that situation."

"He cast an eye for an eye charm," Harry explained. "It was brilliant! Every time they tried to hurt me they got double themselves. It didn't take them long to stop it, in fact it was only Dudley that even tried it out. Professor Snape gave Uncle Vernon a demonstration of the charm when he got double of his last beating of me. That must have been absolutely brutal, it was bad enough without it being doubled."

"I am very sorry that you were there," Lupin told Harry, his eyes sad. "You should have been better cared for. Had I known . . ."

"We know now," Snape responded. "And though Harry has to have residence there to renew the protection charm, he shall come to no more harm there."

Lupin, turning to Sirius, he said, "I think Professor Snape was reasonable in disciplining Harry. In fact, he showed remarkable restraint in not lashing out when he had felt so violated, and waited until he was calm enough to deal with his ward. I know it's hard to believe that Harry could do something wrong, but we have to remember he's a normal boy that sometimes makes mistakes. Blink if you think I can unfreeze you now."

Sirius blinked, and Lupin's wand wordlessly undid the spell.

"But that doesn't give you license to abuse the boy," Sirius growled.

"If I were going to I already would have," Snape sighed. "I have done my level best to be fair and reasonable to Mr. Potter. Any Slytherin with the same behavior would have met the same consequences if not harsher ones."

"So that's why you don't deduct points!" Harry exclaimed.

Snape nodded, but also added, "It has rarely been necessary for me to punish a student that way more than once, however. Once they find the boundary, Slytherins rarely need a reminder."

"Chalk that up to Gryffindor bravado then," Lupin chuckled. "But we should also talk about more important things as well if we're done with Professor Snape's choice of disciplinary tactics?"

With a nod from Sirius, Lupin continued, "How is the case going against Harry?"

"There's just not a lot of other suspects," Snape admitted. "With the use of the black quill, there are no shortage of options for motive, but it's really more of an issue of opportunity."

"Black quill?" Lupin paled. "She used that?"

"On several students," Snape confirmed. "But Harry was the only one to have it more than once. He had it three times."

"What?" Lupin shrilled, and Snape found himself wondering if he should use the _Petrificus Totalis_ spell on Lupin rather than Black.

Then, turning on Harry, he demanded, "Why didn't you ever tell us?"

Harry shrugged, looking away. "The professor wanted to know the same thing. I don't really know."

"He is an abused child," Snape answered for Harry. "He didn't tell you about Vernon Dursley either, did he? It's a survival strategy."

"Some survival!" Sirius snapped.

"He survived, that's what's important," Snape told them. "A lot of abused kids don't even realize that it's actually illegal. However, he's now under strict orders to tell me anything of the kind that should happen to him."

"I should hope so," Lupin growled a bit, and Snape had the sudden reminder that the man that seemed so shabby and genial was in fact a werewolf.

"Perhaps you would like to know more about the murder," Severus prompted, deciding to get Lupin off the subject of the black quill.

"Yes," Lupin agreed, shaking himself and visibly getting control of his temper.

"The room where the murder happened was locked and not disturbed," Snape continued. "Professor Umbridge was not the victim of a spell at all it seems, but just a very muggle stabbing. It was done by someone likely taller than Harry and shorter than me."

"How could a person have the magic to get into a locked room without apparition but then choose to stab someone?" Lupin mused. "I can see why this is a conundrum."

"Doesn't the height exonerate Harry?" Sirius asked hopefully.

"The ministry is uninterested unless I have what they see as irrefutable evidence," Snape acknowledged. "It plays into their hand if Harry can be accused. I believe Umbridge was sent to discredit Harry and cow him, hence the black quill."

"So was it the ministry then?" Lupin asked thoughtfully. "Maybe they realized the liability of using a dark artifact on Harry and they wanted to cover it up?"

"Perhaps," Snape acknowledged. "I have to admit that's the only thing that makes sense right now. If it was someone that the victim trusted then perhaps they could have entered the room without force. But even then it seems awkward – why stab her from behind?"

"Could they be trying to frame Harry perhaps?" Lupin asked.

"Perhaps," Snape agreed. "But they would have to know that Harry was there and came and went without being seen. That seems awfully convenient."

"An impossible murder," Lupin agreed.

"I feel like we're missing a huge piece of the puzzle," Snape admitted. "I'm assuming the black quill was somehow the motive, but even that's a big assumption. What if it was just random?"

"Then your job got even harder," Lupin acknowledged. "Please let us know if there's anything that we can do to help."

"Actually, there might be something," Snape nodded to them. "I will let you know when the time comes. I will send my patronus should I need to summon you."

. . .

On their arrival back in Snape's office, even the dour potions master had to admit that the visit was a success. He never would have thought that by the end of a few cups of tea he was not only having actual thoughts of forgiveness towards his childhood enemies but also thinking of strategies to use them in his plots to uncover the killer of Umbridge. He was shocked beyond words.

"I'm glad they apologized," Harry told Snape as he righted himself and blinked to get his bearings after the apparition. "I didn't even have to tell the to do it."

"Would you really have?" Snape asked, curious.

"Of course," Harry shrugged. "It's what you do when you do something wrong."

Snape, pushing down his mounting guilt, knew that this was the time. "Would you sit down a minute with me, Harry? There's something I need to discuss with you."

"Of course, Professor," Harry answered, though Snape saw the glimmer of suspicion in the boy's eye.

Snape sighed, knowing of course that Harry would worry about any overture of discussion. They sat, and Snape looked at his hands. He felt for all the world like a child unable to apologize, but trying to muddle through it. Was Dumbledore right that He wouldn't lose his ward's respect for this?

"I have reflected on our relationship in our early years," Snape began. "And I realize that I was . . . not very kind to you. As you know at least some of the basics of my relationship to your father and mother, you can probably guess that my . . . feelings towards you when you first came were . . . complicated. And the fact that you looked so much like your father made it . . . even harder."

"I understand, Professor," Harry nodded.

"I want to apologize for my actions towards you," Snape told him, finding the words easier to say than he had thought that they would be. "The first three years of your schooling I was unbearably rude to you, and spiteful. I can give myself excuses that I was still hurt by your father, or that I was hiding my protection of you from the children of death eaters, but in truth I was cruel to you."

"It's okay," Harry told him, not knowing what to say.

"It's not okay," Snape answered. "But we will leave that for now. I hope you can forgive me at some point."

"I forgive you now," Harry told him. "I forgave you ages ago. I mean, it's really nice that you apologized to me, but really, it's okay."

Snape nodded at Harry's childish acceptance of his apology, and felt grateful for it. What would he have done if the lad hadn't wanted his apology?

"I should probably apologize for my actions those years too," Harry chuckled. "I mean, I accused you of trying to steal the philosopher's stone, didn't pay attention in class, and I stunned you that time at the shrieking shack. I've done some bad stuff as well."

"True," Snape nodded. "Perhaps I should inquire if it was you who set my robe on fire during that first Quidditch match you were in when I was trying to save you from Quirrell's jinx?"

"That was Hermione, not me," Harry laughed. "I couldn't have done that spell at that time."

Of course it was.


	14. Chapter 14 - Flower Garden

_AN: This may seem odd because I've already discussed other topics of abuse, but I just wanted to give a bit of a warning with this chapter as the topic of marital domestic violence is touched on a bit. If this is something that is in your past and you would be upset by a reference to it, please skip the last part of this chapter. If this is something you are currently experiencing, please know that you are not alone, you don't deserve it, and please start making a plan to get somewhere safe and talk to someone knowledgeable about this issue. I do not know the statistics for elsewhere, but in the United States one in four marriages have some form of domestic violence. And the way it is described in this chapter is not meant by me to minimize it, but rather to present some of the common excuses and justifications._

* * *

"You must be wondering why I called you to meet with you," Snape told the young woman as she entered his office.

"I assumed it was probably something with Harry's case," she blinked.

"Partially," he nodded. "But I also have some unfinished business with you."

"I found out something new about the knife," Hermione volunteered, decidedly uncomfortable.

"What did you find out?" he asked her. "I have been unable to get anything from the ministry."

"It's very old, and very well made," she told him. "It's between two to three hundred years, and first rate quality. Not something just lying around for someone to pick up. And it's different than the knives that they use in the Hogwarts kitchen."

"And how, might I ask, did you come by this information?" he asked in a low, dangerous voice.

"I have my ways," she replied in a voice far more confident than she felt.

"And I would like to inquire what those ways are, Miss Granger," he pressed.

"Well, I remembered the pattern on the handle from when you recreated the crime scene, and then I found a book in the library about ancient cutlery patterns . . ."

"The truth, Miss Granger," he interrupted her firmly.

"I don't understand, sir," she answered, her eyes darting for the exit.

"Oh, I think you do," he told her firmly, waving his wand and raising wards around the door. "A muffling charm as well so we won't be overheard. Now, Miss Granger, I expect you to tell me the truth."

"I was trying to do that," she told him desperately.

"I think not," he corrected. "Hogwarts has no such book." Snape actually didn't know if Hogwarts did or not, but he was willing to gamble on a bluff.

"Then I must have seen it elsewhere," she told him. "Please, the information is correct!"

"I'm sure it is," he almost purred. "Just as you were able to get the list of people hurt by the black quill, just as you know every detail about your friends, and just as you find out more information and better theories than anybody else. It's not all just books and cleverness, is it, Miss Granger?"

"I don't know what to do," she exclaimed, and he realized she was near tears. "Please, let me go."

"Not until you tell me the truth," he told her firmly. "And believe me that I will know a lie. There are really very few options on how you are this well-informed."

"I c-can't tell you," she stuttered, wiping her face. "I can't tell anybody."

Snape then thought a very clear and easy thought in his head, one that was unwarded but not at all projected. Watching her carefully, he saw her eyes suddenly open up in shock. "How did you know it was me?" she asked, then clapped her hand over her mouth.

"And that is the proof," he told her. "I know that information because Harry let it slip. If it helps, I believe it was quite accidental. And we shall deal with you setting me on fire later, but now I want to know how long you've been a Legilimens."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she protested unconvincingly.

"You are very good," he conceded. "So good that I can't feel you unless I'm specifically setting a trap for you. I suspect that you've gotten past my wards at least a few times before."

"Not often," she assured him, sighing and realizing that protesting had no further value. "You are one of the hardest. Dumbledore is hard too, and a few others. I've found teachers a lot harder, and I sort of always tried not to with them. Until Mad-Eye turned out to be, well, not Mad-Eye, now I try teachers regularly as well."

"How long have you known?"

"Since forever," she shrugged. "I've always been able to do it. It took me a while to figure out that everyone doesn't hear what goes on in other people's heads. I also learned that other people don't like it much that I can, so I learned very early not to tell people about it."

"Does anybody else know?" he demanded.

Hermione shook her head. "People just think I'm smart or intuitive or something. I had one friend my first year at Muggle school that suspected something, and she's what taught me to be cautious. So I don't usually say something that can't be found out in other ways."

"Does Potter know?"

"No," Hermione answered in a small voice, looking down. "Please don't tell them, please. They mean so much to me, I just can't let them know about it."

"Do you think they would abandon you?"

"Not at first, no," she admitted. "But let me ask you this, how would you feel if you found out your best friend could read your mind and you had no defense against it?"

"As even an untrained Legilimens you should know that reducing Legilimency to mind reading is a little reductionist," Snape chided her.

"Of course," she agreed. "But I think that's how my friends would understand it. I try so hard to stay out of their minds, but sometimes I just can't help it."

Snape nodded, understanding. "Perhaps the entire trio should have occlumency lessons," he sighed. Was his life going to be ruled by these accursed Gryffindors? "But that for a later time. I believe that I asked you the source of your information, and I expect an answer."

"Percy Weasley," she sighed. "Had you heard he's going to be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor?"

"I had," Snape answered heavily. "Dumbledore wasn't given a choice in the matter, though I believe he is going to try and coach the NEWT students."

Hermione nodded. "You know that we're starting a defense club," she told Snape. "Hopefully it will help people in our year."

"And Percy knew this information?" Snape asked her.

"Easy as picking apples off a tree," she replied with a slight smile. "No walls at all. One quick twist and everything I wanted was there. And he's around the minister a lot – he knows more than you'd think."

"What else do you know, Miss Granger?" he asked, his voice dangerous.

"I know that Percy doesn't know who killed Umbridge," she told him, her voice meeker. "And he doesn't fully believe that it's Harry, but he also believes that Harry is dangerous and would be better served to have him out of the way. His goal here is to accuse Harry and suppress dissention to the ministry. He's really very nauseating to try and pick information from, most of his thoughts center around hero-worship for Fudge."

"Anything else you've gleaned in your snooping?" he asked acerbically.

"No, I've figured out how to tell you anything important," she told him. "Most of what I can find in people's heads is pretty useless."

"Perhaps with some . . . strategy we can use your gift to its best ability."

"I've mostly viewed it as a curse," Hermione admitted. "Not wanting anybody to know, and mostly trying to shut my mind to what I find."

"It is a gift," Snape firmly repeated. "Especially harnessed well and with some training so you can . . . limit it's use when polite to do so."

"Is that something you can teach me?"

"I'm naturally more gifted in Occlumency," Snape admitted. "However, I have learned Legilimency and should be able to teach you that. I am not the best, however."

"Who is the best?" she asked meekly.

"I'm not sure if it's the Headmaster or . . . the Dark Lord. I have been able to withstand both of them, but only by the most strenuous effort."

"But I got through . . ." she began.

"I was unawares," Snape explained. "And you never found the deeper part of me. But I think a test of your strength is in order. I want you to try and break past my shields."

"But professor . . ." she began, unsure. "Surely it would be a violation . . ."

 _Bloody noble Gryffindors!_ He thought to himself. "Get over your bloody noble nature!" he snapped at her. "It's not like you haven't done it before when I was unawares. I need to know your strength, so try to get in and give it your best attempt. If you manage to get in I will cancel your punishment for lighting my robe on fire in first year."

"You can't punish me for that!" she protested. "It was years ago!"

Snape just glared at the chit until she gulped, nodding acquiescence. "All right, I'll try. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Snape reinforced his shields, and waited for her efforts. Dumbledore entering his mind felt like gentle, persistent pushing while Voldemort felt cold and hard like a knife. From Hermione he felt very little push at all, but more of a warm and welcome wind that didn't exactly push, but more . . . relaxed the shields down. He reinforced the shields as she tried to melt them with the warm scent of summer, and he found himself wishing he could surrender to her intrusion. And with that wish came a crack – and the warm essence of her mind slipped behind his shields in that instant.

Thinking of the young Gryffindor with new respect, he decided to concede the point. Only the most focused and determined Occlumency would keep her out if she were determined, and he felt as if she earned the point on this one. He had the uncomfortable awareness that she could easily be to Dumbledore or Voldemort's level with very little training, and likely surpass them. Knowing his worst memories were locked away where they were inaccessible to even him without great effort, he decided to let her stay and feel around a bit. It would give him better information with which to defend against her.

She briefly viewed a few memories strewn around, though they didn't seem to interest her. She found the vault almost right away. He had not obscured it as he normally had, but he felt as if he should warn her at least.

 _Stay away from that,_ he ordered her fiercely in his mind.

 _Why?_ She responded, poking at it.

Suddenly, he heard her cry of frustration as she was thrown summarily out of his mind. Snape's eyes focused again, and he saw the young Gryffindor on her knees, her hands going to her head in pain.

"I warned you," he told her firmly.

"What was that?" she asked, trying to clear her head.

"I call that the vault," Snape told her. "That is where I lock the information I cannot let get out. Most of the time I obscure its existence, but I thought I would let you see that even you are not able to breach everything."

"My head . . ." she gasped, cradling her forehead.

With a sigh of forbearance, he produced a vial of pain relieving potion and pressed it into her hand. Accepting the potion with complete trust, she drank it in one gulp; grimacing at the taste, but then slowly released the pressure on her forehead.

"Headache is a common side effect of learning Occlumency and Legilimency," Snape told her.

"The potion helped," she replied, pushing herself up slowly.

"You got past my basic walls," he told her. "Therefore you have earned your reprieve as discussed previously. However, do not get overconfident. You could not have gotten past it if I hadn't allowed it."

"I've never felt something like that vault," she told him, still slightly out of breath. "That's more solid than Dumbledore."

"And now you see why I am the master Occlumens," he answered her, somewhat smug in his response. "But to be perfectly honest, you have much natural talent as a Legilimens. It makes me wonder how you acquired it."

Hermione shrugged, still shaky as she found her balance. "I've always been this way," she explained. "It mostly got passed off that I was just smart."

"How are you at Occlumency?" he asked the Gryffindor girl.

"I don't know," she confessed. "I've never tried."

"Clear your mind, I'm going to attempt," he told her, withdrawing his wand and making eye contact. "Legilimens!" he commanded.

Snape gave a moderate push towards the young Gryffindor's mind, not wanting to assault her too firmly but also wanting it to be a real test of her ability. He found the edges of her rudimentary shields easily, and hopped over them as easily as he could climb stairs. He looked around, trying to ascertain the reason for her gift of Legilimency.

Though he had made the point that Legilimency was much more complicated than reading minds, mostly because the human brain was far more complex than watching a program on television, there was usually some pattern and structure on how to explore someone's memories and emotions. Hermione's mind appeared like a garden, a large garden beside a family home. He strode through the garden, and found a feeling of mounting anxiety swirl around him, though he was surrounded by flowers and climbing vines. Had he not been an Occlumens, this anxiety would have penetrated his mind. As it was, he could feel the mounting anxiety and be able to still function. As he approached the house, he saw a small girl sitting on the porch and clutching a worn doll as he heard voices raise inside the house. Her face was worried and serious, and she would not look up at him. He then heard a slap from inside the house and then sobbing, and watched the little girl's face turn pale as she clutched her doll tighter.

Suddenly he realized the source of the Legilimency – she had been born with the gift, and then with parents that fought like that and a child intensely devoted to trying to find out what was happening behind closed doors she honed her gift. He decided that he'd seen enough of how these two muggles had raised their exceptional daughter, and backed out of the garden wordlessly.

"You have little skills in Occlumency," he told her as soon as he left her mind.

Hermione, shaken and fighting tears, nodded as she sat down. "You saw it," she whispered, a sense of horror in her voice.

"I did," he answered simply.

"They never hurt me," she rushed to assure him, her voice sounding remarkably young. "I'm not like Harry."

Snape remained silent, unsure of how to answer the girl. "I am not in agreement with that," he told her, his voice low and calm. "You didn't have bruises, but you were significantly harmed."

"I love them," she explained, unsure of how to explain. "They love me too. There's a lot of really good times together. Just sometimes, well, Daddy gets into a mood, and . . . they tried to hide it from me . . ."

"I understand," Snape nodded.

"He always apologizes afterwards," she told him. "Brings her flowers, is such a gentleman. And usually he's good for a long time after."

"That's often how it works," Snape told her.

"I hate flowers," she told him darkly, Snape recognizing for the first time that she wasn't trying to protect her parents. "Whenever I saw them I knew what they represented."

"That is understandable," he agreed neutrally.

"Don't tell anyone," she begged, her voice desperate.

"I won't for now," he told her. "I cannot promise forever."

"Don't tell Harry and Ron," she sniffed, trying to calm herself.

"You once scolded me into becoming Harry's guardian," he told her, remembering that night. "You encouraged me to tell Harry the truth, and to be the grown up and make the first move. You knew that this was against my nature, but you knew that it was needed. I would give you a similar exhortation. It is against your nature to share your gift of Legilimency with your friends, just as it is against your nature to disclose the issues of your childhood home. But these are things that should be known, especially by those close to you. You see your Legilimency as a liability, as something you will be criticized for possessing. I see it as a tool and a weapon that you and your merry bunch of hooligans could actually put to good use; with training, of course. I cannot believe I am saying this about Gryffindor troublemakers, but I think you are vastly underestimating your friends."

"Do you really think so?" she sniffed, looking at him with hope.

"I do," he answered, thinking of Harry's easy forgiveness of the harm he had caused the boy. "For Gryffindors, they are quite . . . reasonable."


	15. Chapter 15 - Courting Trouble

"Harry is going to be a bit late," Hermione announced as her and the infernal redhead entered his office. "He's gotten a detention with Professor Weasley."

"Professor Weasley?" Snape echoed, surprised.

"My bloody git of a brother!" Ron growled. "I'd tell mum about it, but he's not talking to her either!"

"What did he do to earn the detention?" Snape asked calmly, trying to ignore Ron's language.

"He said that Minister Fudge was wrong about Voldemort," Hermione explained. "It seems as if Professor Weasley is picking up where Umbridge left off – ministry approved teaching styles and Fudge worship."

"Let's hope he doesn't emulate her in other ways," Snape told them. "To be honest, Dumbledore is losing standing by the moment. Percy could inflict almost anything and Dumbledore may not be able to interfere."

"But the black quill is illegal!" Hermione protested.

"But the cane is not," Snape reminded her. "Neither is the strap, nor a myriad of spells that are equally unpleasant."

"Most professors just do lines or chores!" Ron protested.

"Because that's what Dumbledore approves," Snape told them. "But before Dumbledore punishments were often harsher."

"The cane and the strap are still legal in muggle schools too," Hermione admitted. "At least private ones. I remember a few kids getting it, but it wasn't common."

"I mean, he's a git and all and wrote me that horrible letter about wanting me to break off with Harry and suck up to Umbridge – but surely he couldn't be that evil?" Ron wondered aloud.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Harry announced as he entered the office. "I tried to get away as soon as I could."

"Are you well, Mr. Potter?" Snape inquired, searching the teenager for signs of injury.

"Oh, I'm fine," he sighed. "Just frustrated at that hopped-up prefect that thinks he's a professor."

"What happened?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"Mostly I was just lectured to death," Harry told her. "On and on about how we had to support Fudge for the good of the wizarding community, all that rubbish."

"There was more to it than that," Snape surmised, watching Harry closely.

"Well, he did get a bit . . . well, he did his nut a bit at the end."

"Explain," Snape commanded, knowing there was something there.

"Well, he sort of . . . threatened me a bit," he explained, looking more perplexed than frightened. "He was saying how Fudge had encouraged him to 'take me in hand' a bit to encourage me toward the right way, and how he didn't want to do it, but how he had to trust smarter minds than his . . . well, it came down to him saying that he would probably have to cane me at some point if I didn't stop it with 'disparaging the rightfully appointed Minister of Magic.' Can he do that, Professor?"

"He can," Snape confirmed. "At this point Dumbledore will be able to do little to stop him. It is not illegal, just discouraged by the present administration except under certain specific conditions, such as attacking a member of staff."

"You'll just have to cool it then, Harry," Ron told him. "There's no way you should get the cane."

"Like a cane wielded by Percy Weasley is any worse than the black quill," Harry snorted. "He can't scare me off."

"But he perhaps should inspire some caution," Snape chided. "Professor Weasley is not the same student prefect you disobeyed and ridiculed a few years ago. He actually is in a position of authority, and has the ear of the minister. He can be dangerous."

"More dangerous than a toad in tweed?" Harry snorted. "You should have seen him, professor, he was laughable. I mean, any student in his right mind is frightened nearly to death with just a glance from you, but Perfect Prefect Percy could barely even threaten me without making me want to laugh."

"I have a formulation that I developed to counteract the affects of the cane," Snape sighed. "I will make sure I have a fresh supply, you are probably going to need it, you foolish Gryffindor." _It wouldn't kill him_ , Snape assured himself pragmatically. _And it might just teach him some caution._

Harry shrugged. "Thanks. I'll let you know if I do.

"Why would you have developed that?" Hermione asked, curiously. "Surely as a professor you would not want to negate their punishment."

"You ask too many questions," he told her gruffly as he easily pushed her questing out of his mind. He suspected the questing was an automatic outpouring of her question and not intentionally done as it had little power behind it. That was part of what he'd have to train her out of doing. "Let's move on to the purpose of our meeting. We are going to review the new information in the case, as Potter being thrown in Azkaban is still imminent and far more worrisome than whatever paltry and transitory punishment a teenage professor may inflict. Also, we will practice at least the basics of Occlumency."

"Why do I need to learn that?" Ron asked, nonplussed. "I don't have much in my head the Dark Lord would be interested in, really."

Snape glared at Hermione, realizing she hadn't told them. "It appears Miss Granger has something she'd like to share with you."

Hermione gulped, and glared at Snape right back. She wasn't ready!

"What is it, Hermione?" Harry asked, his face serious and looking at his friend.

"It's nothing, really," she told him. "I had wanted to tell you later."

"No time like the present," Ron grinned. "Did you get in trouble with Snape or something? I heard some girl saying you had detention with him last night without us. Did you have to scrub cauldrons?"

Hermione hesitated, and Snape felt her warm wind try and breach his shields yet again. Could the chit not control herself? He slapped her back mentally this time, the equivalent to a mother slapping a toddler's hands to keep them away from a hot stove.

"Hey!" Hermione protested, glaring at Snape.

"Keep to yourself," he sternly ordered. "You are getting nothing from me in this. You know we cannot function as a team without everyone knowing this information."

"I can't," she protested, now close to tears.

"What is it?" Harry asked, suddenly concerned.

"Your friend has a rare and powerful gift," Snape explained. "And one that can be used powerfully for our purposes. However, she is afraid that the revelation of this gift will alter your friendship with her."

"You know that can't happen!" Harry protested. "C'mon, you know all of my bad stuff!"

"You're a right idiot in spite of being so brilliant," Ron assured her. "C'mon, what is it? Are you like secretly a vampire or something?"

Hermione still hesitated, but then seemed to gulp and settle herself. Snape realized that this was why the girl was sorted in to Gryffindor, though for all the world she seemed like a Ravenclaw. "Don't be ridiculous, Ron, you've clearly seen me eat food and be in the sunlight," she told them carefully, gathering courage. "I'm a Legilimens. I've been so as long as I can remember."

"You can read minds?" Ron jumped to the conclusion, looking confused but also concerned.

"It's not like that," she told them. "It's a lot more complicated. Often I just, well, I can feel the other person's emotions or whether or not they're lying. But sometimes, yes, I can enter someone's mind and see some of their thoughts."

"Have you done that to me?" Ron asked, a bit taken aback.

"You practically scream what you're thinking," Hermione told him, chagrined. "But don't worry, other boys are basically the same. I mostly try and ignore it."

"Can you ignore it?" Harry asked critically. "I mean; can you choose to stay out of our heads?"

"I try most of the time," she admitted. "But after the stuff last year with Mad-Eye, well, I look a bit more than I used to, especially the adults. Professor Snape caught me."

"I'm learning Occlumency, so it's not too bad for me," Harry told her. "But Ron, you're going to need to step up your game or stop dreaming about girls."

"Occlumency! I will learn it!" Ron insisted, laughing. "Or I have a feeling I may not survive!"

"Professor Snape said that my Occlumency was developed because of my . . . the way my relatives treated me," Harry asked her, his forehead wrinkling. "Was there something that developed this in you too?"

"I was just fine," Hermione grumbled, and then caught the glare from the Professor. "It wasn't that bad!" she protested. "They never hurt me!"

"Your parents?" Ron pressed, seeing her defensiveness. "You never talk about them much."

"My parents . . . first, they never hurt me," she explained. "I have no reason to complain, especially compared to Harry."

"I could say I didn't have it so bad because I never ended up in the hospital," Harry rolled his eyes. "Pain is pain, and obviously you have some. What is it?"

"Most of the time my parents were completely fine, both to me and each other," she defended. "But sometimes, when he got in a bad mood, well, sometimes they would fight. Vicious fights."

"My parents fight sometimes too," Ron shrugged. "I mean, you know they love each other, and sometimes they have a spat."

"It wasn't a spat," she replied quietly. "My dad . . . well, my dad would sometimes slap my mum. It's not like he broke an arm or anything, but I could tell that when he started being like that . . . well, she'd get scared. She'd try to please him, to help him stay calm, but we knew that it would end in no other way than him hitting her."

"I'm sorry," Ron told her. "That must have been rough to hear that."

"Me too," Harry told her. "You know, I actually think it would have been harder to see someone I loved hit than to be hit myself."

"Thank you," Hermione acknowledged, tears in her eyes. "You guys don't know what it means to me that you understand how hard that was for me."

"And you wanting to see if your mum was being hurt made you want to read people's minds to see what was happening," Harry nodded. "I get that."

"Your mum needs to get out," Ron told her. "I mean, there has to be a way for her not to have to live like that."

"I don't even know where to begin with that," Hermione confessed. "She seems lost if I talk to her about it. She just seems focused on wishing that he would change, and hoping that she could have the man he was most of the time all of the time. She thinks he means it when he apologizes."

"And you don't," Snape told her, a statement and not a question.

"I have been in his head," she admitted, her voice becoming colder. "He has no intention of stopping. It is so hard, I love him so much, but it makes it hard to see what he thinks of her. How can he be so kind to me and so horrible to her?"

"I don't think he's being kind to you if he's mean to your mum," Ron told her.

"He didn't know I could hear!" Hermione protested. "I wouldn't bloody know so much if I could just keep my mind to myself!"

"It is difficult for an untrained Legilimens to do that," Snape conceded. "Even when you might wish to."

"Why did you never read Draco then?" Harry asked suddenly. "Or Professor Snape? We've been so wrong with them before."

"Draco has been taught Occlumency by his Aunt Bellatrix," Snape informed them. "And she rarely got behind even my first defense barriers."

Snape scowled at the laughing Gryffindors but was also secretly pleased in how easy they were with Hermione's revelation. He wondered himself what his school career would have been like if he'd had easy friendships like these rather than fighting the marauders and the complications of Lily's friendship and her eventual rejection of him. Things would probably have been a lot different.

"Let's make a list of what we know about the case," Snape interrupted their emotional connecting. "We have limited time and you can emote elsewhere. What do we know?"

"We know the room was locked and closed, and we don't know how they got in," Harry began.

"We know the killer is taller than Harry and shorter than the Professor," Ron chimed in.

"I found out from Percy's mind that the murder weapon was old, two to three hundred years, and top rate quality."

"Probably from an old wizarding family," Ron acknowledged. "A lot of them have junk like that lying around."

"Would Percy have access to a knife like that?" Harry pressed.

"'Course not," Ron shrugged. "Hermione said it was top rate quality. The Weasleys haven't had money for generations."

"So we're looking for a wizard then, but then why wouldn't they use a wand?" Hermione wondered

"Or someone who stole something from a wizarding family," Snape interjected. "But to what purpose? Surely a knife like that would fetch a fair price, if it was stolen why use it?"

"I can't help but think that it could be someone that has nothing to do with us," Hermione wondered. "I mean, she has a squib brother, what if it was him?"

"I need all information that you gather, Miss Granger," Snape growled at her, his eyes narrowing. "Not just what you think I want to hear."

"I forgot about that one," she admitted, shamefaced. "Percy didn't lend it much weight, so I didn't really either."

"It could also be the ministry," Harry added. "Maybe to cover up the use of the black quill. Surely there's a lot of old wizarding families hanging out around there as well."

"So our suspects are the squib brother, the ministry, Percy, and the list of students abused by the black quill," Hermione surmised.

"And their relatives," Ron added. "I think if I'd been subjected to the quill, my older brothers would have done something, perhaps even something stupid. I mean, not Perfect Percy, but certainly the twins and maybe even Charlie. But he would have roasted her with a dragon, not used some moldy old knife."

They debated the facts of the case longer, and Snape realized at one point that they had very little else to go on. "I believe we are done with this discussion," he interjected as Hermione was debating if _alohomora_ would have opened the door. "It is time for Occlumency. Everyone will sit comfortably and try and think of nothing."

"How do you think of nothing?" Ron asked. "I mean, anytime I try to think of nothing, something always pops up . . ."

"Something like snogging?" Harry supplied helpfully, and then they burst into laughter together.

In answer, Snape swiftly made his way into Ron's untidy mind and saw the memory Potter had referenced. Sigh. Was he really having to teach this idiot?

"Hey, get out!" he heard Ron protest as he pressed farther.

"Make me," Snape told him acerbically, finding some interesting rule breaking.

"Out!" Ron thundered, and Snape actually felt him push a bit against him.

"Try harder," Snape ordered, moving towards a memory of some girl that Ron had been mooning over last year.

"OUT!" Ron yelled, with a definite push this time. Snape allowed himself to be pushed out this time, though he could have resisted.

"Better," Snape told him, handing him the headache potion. "Though you couldn't have thrown me out if I hadn't allowed it. You need to take this seriously, it is no laughing matter. It takes discipline."

"We understand, Professor," Harry answered, paling a little bit at watching Ron take the potion from his position on his knees. "Sorry for horsing around."

"I understand you're Gryffindors," Snape relented, taking back the empty bottle. "So use that. We have a large task ahead of us, we're going to need what you three . . . students bring to the table. But it has to be your best effort."

"We will," Harry assured him.

"And that means that Miss Granger can use her gift without fear of rejection from her friends," Snape told them. "It means that Mr. Potter keeps his head down and not antagonize the ministry further, and it means that Mr. Weasley does . . . whatever it is that he does."

"Hey!" Ron protested.

"He's actually really good at some of this!" Harry insisted.

"He is the only one of us born and raised in the wizarding world," Hermione pointed out. "He knew more about the significance of the knife than we did."

"I will not interfere with how your little . . . trio works," Snape told them. "As long as it does work. You have your assignments. Practice your shields, keep your ears open, especially around Percy. Let me know everything you find out as soon as possible. And for Merlin's sakes, keep out of trouble. Do not give the Ministry any more ammunition."

Even though the trio agreed to his suggestions, nobody believed it.


	16. Chapter 16 - The Cane

_AN: I would like to give the warning that this chapter contains reference and the physical results of child abuse. I have more thoughts on the subject at the end of the chapter, but wanted to post a warning here._

* * *

Snape was not at all surprised to have Harry limp into his office after hours a week later. Snape took one look at his face and went to fetch the formulation he'd developed for counteracting the effects of the cane; obviously the lad hadn't taken his warnings seriously. And by the way Harry was walking the person was either very inexperienced or intentionally particularly brutal. He would need the formulation.

"Lay down on your stomach on the sofa," Snape told him calmly, not waiting for an explanation and handing him a pain potion from the folds of his robes. "I shall fetch the salve."

Harry limped over to the sofa, gratefully quaffing the potion as he grimaced at the taste. The pain lessened, but they both knew that was only temporary. Harry laid face-down on the sofa, desperation for relief from the pain Percy had inflicted winning out over the sense of modesty that Harry knew would soon be violated.

"It needs to be applied directly to the skin," Snape told him in a business-like manner. "With an incantation as well, as I'm sure you remember from class. Where are your injuries located?"

"Mostly on my backside," Harry admitted, his ears pinking. "There's a few on my back and on my upper thighs, though."

Harry pretended to ignore what was happening as he felt Snape transform his clothes into a hospital gown that was tied at the back. Snape then undid the ties to reveal Harry's back and backside covered with severe welts.

"That boy had no idea what he was doing," Snape whistled lowly as he saw the damage. "He had obviously never had the cane before nor wielded it either."

"I tried really hard not to react to it," Harry confessed, his voice small and close to tears. "I don't even remember how many he gave me."

"The cane looks small and not very harmful to the uninitiated," Snape explained. "It doesn't even make a large sound when applied. The paddle or the strap look far more fearsome, and sound it too. You not reacting to the cane probably made it worse as well. That idiot may have had no idea how harsh he was being. If you don't understand how much pain is being inflicted, it is easy to not understand the damage."

"I think I may need some of that best revenge," Harry tried to joke. "You wouldn't tell me what it was before."

"It's a muggle saying," Snape told him, trying to ground his own fury. "The best revenge is a life well lived. If you survive and thrive, then those that tried to hurt you suffer worse than anything else you can do to them."

"You're right, I don't believe you," Harry answered.

"Try thinking about it when your body is less sore," Snape nodded. "I think anybody in your shoes would not believe me."

"It hurts," Harry admitted, surprisingly close to tears. He had survived the entire ordeal with Percy with silence.

"Schools usually limit this punishment to six strokes," Snape told him. "Though exceptions can be made for particularly egregious behaviors. You've clearly received more than double that."

Truthfully, the damage was severe. Not only had there been far too many strokes, but the strokes were delivered erratically as well, crossing each other and leaving oozing wounds in their wake. Percy had also struck across parts of his body that wasn't padded properly – like the lower back. Harry would be lucky if he didn't have any damage beyond the tramline weal in those places.

"Still not as bad as Uncle Vernon," Harry told him, shifting nervously.

"And that is indeed an indictment on your Uncle," Snape growled. "Because this is clearly abuse. Were I to cane you it would be six strokes across your bum that wouldn't cross each other. While certainly a severe punishment, it would not feel anything like this. That bloody stooge!"

"He wasn't really that enthusiastic about it," Harry told Snape, a little confused by Snape's strong language. "He seemed more nervous than anything. But I still don't get it, why Ron's brother? Why is he even teaching when he's only a few years older than us?"

"I imagine even the minister has difficulty filling that post," Snape told him. "Of your last four Defense teachers two are dead, one has lost his memories, and one is living in hiding because he was exposed as a werewolf. Actually Percy makes a lot of sense, he had to have someone who got good marks at school but was still stupid enough to think sucking up to the minister was more important than their physical health."

Harry snorted.

"I'm going to have to clean your wounds before properly treating them," Snape explained, pushing thoughts of that red-headed idiot out of his head. "The salve doesn't work as well with dried blood. I will be as gentle as I can, but it may still hurt a bit."

"I can take it," Harry grimaced as Snape summoned a bowl of warm water and a soft cloth. "I've been through the worst of it."

"I hope that's true," Snape answered, his voice strong with meaning. But instead of continuing that lecture, Snape gently washed the worst of the wounds, clearing off the dried blood and seeping fluid from them. The weals were also unevenly placed – some of the stripes were what Snape would consider normal for a school caning while others were obviously applied with far too much strength. Who knew Percy had such a strong arm?

"Bloody git," Harry grumbled with a particularly painful part. "I think he was trying to scare me off."

"Well, he bloody botched it," Snape sighed. He wasn't going to correct Harry's coarse language, especially considering that he had been using it himself. And Harry wasn't responsible for what he said under the influence of a pain medication, either. Snape set the water aside, which was far pinker than it should have been, and brought out the small pot of shimmery salve. "I've cleaned the wounds now, so I will apply the salve. It might sting a little at first, but should feel cool and hopefully better. Let me know if you need a break."

After seeing his patient nod, Snape used a light hand to apply the salve, and hoped that his business-like manner would help alleviate the inevitable embarrassment of this treatment. It brought him to mind of his mother doing the same thing for him, and he sighed in regret. Though he knew he could not protect Harry from this, he would do the best he could to patch him up. He wondered if his mother had felt the same.

"Better than the black quill," Harry said softly, flinching at the initial sting of the salve as it was spread. "Though in a bloody more embarrassing place to put salve on."

"I imagine the psychological aspect of the quill is part of the torture," Snape agreed. "Having to cut yourself open, having it heal, and then doing it again enough to leave a scar. Truly an evil tactic. I could see how the cane would be better than that."

"Harder to check out during it, too," Harry told him. "I mean, with the cane I can just lie there and pretend I'm somewhere else. It's harder to do that with the quill."

"It's still abuse," Snape told him, concentrating on coating the weals properly. "Nobody could look at this and not think so."

"Will this get Dumbledore into trouble if he tries to speak to Percy about it?" Harry asked, his voice quiet.

"It might," Snape answered, more candid than usual as he focused on the salve. "Now hush while I do the incantation."

Harry heard the sing-song of a indiscernible incantation, and felt the cooling effect of the salve intensify as he could feel his skin bubble and heal under Snape's wand. He gasped at the feeling, that while not exactly painful was still fairly intense. Clutching his pillow, he closed his eyes against it as he saw a glowing light, and then it fading away.

"It's done," Snape told him, re-typing his hospital gown with his wand and patting his shoulder with reassurance. "That's as good as my salve can get you for tonight."

"Will you need to do it again?" Harry asked, nervous.

"We shouldn't need to," Snape answered, gently covering Harry with a blanket.

Sinking back into the warm blanket without even realizing that he had been cold, Harry found himself suddenly heavy-limbed and sleepy. Yawning, he barely noticed as the couch beneath him transformed into a bed and the lights went dimmer.

"But you can't tell Dumbledore, it could get him sacked . . ."

"Let the grown-ups worry about that right now," Snape told him gently. "You don't have anything to worry about."

"Not worth it if it costs Dumbledore . . ." Harry protested, ending the sentence with a yawn.

"Magical healing makes you sleepy," Snape told him as Harry felt himself drifting off almost against his will. "You will stay here tonight."

Snape watched his ward fall asleep with an odd mix of affection and exasperation. It was clear that the boy wouldn't stop his Gryffindorish tendencies even to save his own skin – and there was no punishment Snape was willing to inflict that could change that for him. He was too bloody noble – if the thought that his speaking out against the ministry would do something then he would keep doing it. So, he had to make it so it would be an . . . unattractive option for Percy to continue with this method of taking Harry in Hand. Harry was unfortunately right in that the normal and direct method of dealing with an abusive teacher – taking his evidence directly to the headmaster and demanding his dismissal – would likely not result in Percy's dismissal but more likely an excuse for him to take more power at Hogwarts. He knew that Minerva complaining about what she termed as Umbridge's "medieval methods" had resulted in Umbridge starting the inspection of the teachers and issuing educational decrees. Wouldn't his complaint empower Percy more? It had to be something subtler – more Slytherin.

Not wanting to muddle his thinking with whisky, Snape sat down with some tea to think through what could possibly work. Halfway through his second cup he found himself coming up with a very basic plan, and the plan would have to include Minerva McGonagall. His transfiguration skills, while good enough to earn him a decent NEWT rating, were nothing compared to hers. Finishing his cup, he decided that it was time for him to patrol the hallways for out of bed students, and perhaps see if his colleague would be awake at this hour. Though the were always rivals, they also deeply respected each other. And Snape knew she would not tolerate what had happened to her precious Gryffindor. Yes, this plan had merit.

As he walked the hallways into McGonagall's quarters, he thought about what Ron had said that loved ones of victims should always be suspect. Granted, he wasn't going to murder Percy Weasley, his actions would hopefully serve to educate the boy – and Snape still clearly thought of him as a boy – but he could see the temptation. The fact that this sniveling stooge of the Minister dared to abuse his ward like that forced him to use occlumency to not lash out in anger. The best revenge in this case would not be in attacking Percy – hence giving the ministry a reason to fire him and blow his cover as a spy – but it would instead be in just a little mild psychological torture. A little untraceable psychological torture.

. . .

The next day Snape spied Percy at breakfast and could not help congratulating himself on a well-executed plan. Percy was looking as if he had forced himself to be there despite a long night of no sleep. Disappointed that he saw Percy wearing dragon hide gloves to counteract part of the spell, he shrugged. Percy wasn't stupid in that way at least; he knew that dragon hide could withstand most magical curses. But they also made it hard for him to eat his breakfast, and Snape took pleasure in watching him fumble with his fork.

"May I be of assistance, Professor Weasley?" he asked politely. "I could pour you some tea if you wish."

"Thank you," Percy nodded miserably. "I can't manage the teapot with these gloves."

"Is this a new defense strategy you're teaching?" Snape inquired politely. "I don't remember you wearing dragon hide gloves before."

"I'm, well, I'm having a bit of a problem this morning," Percy admitted. "Don't worry, I'll work it out. But I actually did have a question for you, professor."

"Yes?"

"There are rumors that the Slytherins don't step out of line with you, even though they don't lose house points."

"True," Snape answered, wondering if this whelp would actually ask what he thought he might ask.

"Well, my supervisor, that is, the ministry, well, they have encouraged me use some of the more . . . classical punishments," Percy admitted. "So I wondered if I might ask about the application of the cane."

"The cane is a very severe punishment," Snape told him seriously, reflecting a bit on his Gryffindor bravery. The young man had no sense of self-preservation. "I only use it when forced as it can be very brutal. Many muggles put a book under their arm and hold it there when applying it so as to not use too much force."

"Really?" Percy squeaked.

"If you don't know what you're doing it can cause a great deal of harm," Snape told him, having no compassion for the stooge. "If forced to cane a student I find a stroke or two enough to impress the lesson, but have never given a student more than six strokes, as that would clearly be abusive."

"Abusive?" Percy echoed. "But it just seems like a little stick . . ."

"It seems not as brutal as the strap or the paddle," Snape conceded. "But to anyone who has ever experienced it, they know it is far worse. A strap or a paddle distributes the force of the blow over a wider area, where the cane concentrates it. A stroke from the cane leaves a raised weal on the skin that can take a week or longer to heal. Even a welt from a strap is not so bad."

"Merlin's beard," he echoed, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. Snape knew there had been a cushioning charm cast, but Percy was still feeling his handiwork from the dream.

"Really, professor, I have found that most students really need very little in the way of physical punishment," he told the younger man. "I find that intimidation works the best, and if you need to do more than lines or chores should be the first course of action. If strictly necessary, a few swats with the paddle is far more appropriate and causes far less lasting damage. In fact, you will find Hogwarts Professors quite reluctant to use physical discipline. I know you are a new professor, so I am wondering if nobody had told you?"

"Told me what?"

"Simply that Hogwarts comes down rather hard on professors that cross the line into abusing their charges," Snape told him smoothly, sipping his own tea.

"But the Headmaster . . ."

"Not the headmaster," Snape corrected. "Hogwarts itself. I myself crossed the line a few times in my younger years, and have been overly cautious since."

"What happened?"

"Let's just say that Hogwarts has a way of letting the professor know the level of abuse inflicted," Snape told him, flicking an imaginary piece of lint off his sleeve. "It can take many forms. Bad dreams, unexplained curses, phantom pains – Hogwarts itself is very creative."

"Why did nobody warn me?" Percy asked, paling.

"I'm sure nobody thought to," Snape replied reasonably. "You seem like a nice young man, certainly not someone to harm a student. People thought to warn me; well, I supposed I looked like I needed the warning."

"But Umbridge . . ."

"I have been thinking about Umbridge," Snape told him. "There was a nasty rumor about her using the black quill on students, and I find that idea to be highly suspect. I mean, why court disaster like that?"

"Could Hogwarts have been the cause of her death?" Percy asked, his eyes wide.

"I don't know," Snape answered. "But I will tell you that no other professor would ever use the black quill, and part of that is our respect for how Hogwarts protects the students."

"How do you know if Hogwarts disapproves?" he asked.

"I believe that Hogwarts gives a warning," Snape told him. "I've never known a professor to not take the warning when given. Except, perhaps, poor Professor Umbridge. But we don't know that for sure, do we?"

"I'm sure it was something else," Percy replied, looking decidedly uncomfortable. He awkwardly picked up his teacup, though it was interrupted with a yawn.

"Did you sleep well, Professor Weasley?" Snape asked, solicitous. "You seem a bit tired today."

"In truth, I had some rather . . . disturbing dreams," Percy admitted. "But no matter, I shall be fine. Thank you for the tea, Professor."

"You are welcome, Professor," Snape answered. He rarely used Legilimency on other professors because he had promised Professor Dumbledore not to, but it took very little to see the thoughts and worries that Percy was thinking. His worry over the dream where Snape himself had caned him in a manner very similar to what he had done to Harry, and the subsequent pain he felt even upon waking. Though there were no marks on his body, he felt as if the dream had continued. He could barely sit, and a pain potion he summoned from an elf in the morning was of no help at all. He feared going to Madame Pomfrey because being crazy was worse than being in pain – and he thought that it was perhaps his guilt that was causing it in the first place. He thought caning Harry would have made him feel like a teacher, and Harry would have blubbered and apologized and seen the right way. That's what Ron would have done, or himself to be quite blunt. But alas, the boy did nothing but take it and then limp away, dry-eyed and determined.

And then there was the disturbing issue that everything he touched turned into a cane! He turned two pairs of shorts into canes while trying to get dressed that morning, almost weeping in frustration as he thought he might have to go searching for help in his nightclothes. Luckily, he remembered from Potions that Dragon hide was impervious to most magics and hoped that they would help him. Luckily again, a house elf had been able to find a pair and he'd been able to put them on without trouble. How was he going to explain himself to his class today?

Snape, in observing the young Professor and finding himself satisfied with the justice he'd meted out to him, found himself wondering about revenge. Was this a petty revenge that he just inflicted on Weasley? Was this just the sort of revenge he was warning Harry about? Although, he reflected – this was much more about justice. And making sure it didn't happen again to any other student.

"Thank you for your assistance in this matter," Snape told Minerva as the object of their wrath shuffled out of the dining hall, limping slightly.

"He is my charge as well as yours," she told him. "And the perpetrator was a Gryffindor as well. I take that verra seriously."

"I have recently learned that you did take that seriously with people who abused me as well," Snape told her softly.

"Of course I did," she replied incredulously. "Did you think I did nothing when they did their shenanigans?"

"I never heard anything about their punishment," Snape told her.

"Slughorn," Minerva grimaced. "If you weren't in his club, he did no care. I told him to tell you that I had dealt with it. Directly."

"I should have known better than to doubt it," Snape replied.

"So should Percy Weasley," she grumbled, watching the young man leave the hall.

Snape watched too, wondering which part of the punishment Snape had crafted for the young professor was hardest on him. He had always realized that Minerva was formidable, but he had rarely seen her this frustrated. "How long?"

"Seventeen strokes, seventeen days," she answered in a tone that brooked no opposition. "This will teach him to never touch a cane again."

Indeed.

* * *

 _AN: One guest reviewer asked me not to include an episode of Percy abusing Harry with the cane, and I understand the motivation. It's hard to read abuse happening to our hero, and Harry has gone through enough. But my removal of the main protagonist from this year in school also somewhat downplays the ministry's sadistic treatment of Harry. I think it's easy to dissociate from the horror of the abuse that Umbridge placed upon Harry with the black quill because it's a magical artifact, and one that in real life we cannot experience. The cane is a very real thing that happened to several generations of students, to which we have now numerous accounts for its misuse and abuse of children. I made the decision to have this scenario of abuse with Percy to show the Ministry's unethical treatment of Harry, Percy's inexperience and attempts to please his boss, and also to show Harry's dogged determination, which were all elements in canon that would not be here without this abuse. So I want to say I'm sorry somewhat for abusing the Harry that we all know and love, but I hope that the time with Severus afterwards help alleviate that at least a bit. If not, I will work on finding a source of dreamless sleep for us all. Let me know what you think._

 _Also, we are getting within a few chapters of revealing the murderer. If you would like to make a guess please do, and also let me know if you want me to tell you that you're right or not. :)_


	17. Chapter 17 - Gillyweed

_AN: If you are a regular reader, please make sure that you haven't missed the last chapter or two due to a notification issue by this website. If you're like me and rely on the email alert to know when a new chapter is posted you may have missed chapter 16 or even 15. Otherwise, let me know how you're liking the story and of course I would love it if you want to make a guess, but do let me know if you want me to tell you if you're right or wrong. I don't want to spoil it for anybody! Also, just as a note to a guest commenter that I couldn't reply to, no apology necessary. I like when people make me think about why I'm doing certain things, and I appreciate the process I went through in response to your comment. Thanks!_

* * *

The following night Snape wasn't surprised when Harry returned to his chamber. He had rather hoped that he would – though he told himself that it was just to make sure that the lad had completely healed from his ordeal the evening before.

"Okay, what did you do to Percy?" Harry asked, grinning.

Snape, somewhat affronted by Harry's completely casual demeanor, answered, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"It had to be you," Harry snorted. "He's wearing these dragon hide gloves that mean he has trouble doing much of anything! I don't think he can even use his wand; didn't you say in class that you couldn't because the dragon hide blocks the magic?"

"Indeed, I did say that," Snape drawled. "I'm surprised you remember; I actually said that during class."

"He also limped a bit," Harry declared, watching Snape closely. "And he didn't sit down, either. In fact, I would say he looked exactly how I felt the night before."

"Perhaps he fell and injured himself," Snape quipped.

"The last straw was detention tonight," Harry told him, sitting down easily much to Snape's satisfaction. "He barely said anything to me and just had me write lines, you know, with a normal quill and everything. I wrote, 'I will respect the legally appointed ministry and not contradict them in class' two hundred times."

"And that made you suspicious?" Snape asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Well, it's a bit different than last night," Harry shrugged. "And he seemed really weird and kind of scared of me. But the kicker was that he didn't sit the whole time – he had made one desk really tall so that he could grade papers while he stood up."

"That is indeed suspicious," Snape acknowledged, trying hard not to acknowledge what he'd done. "But didn't he get suspicious of your . . . lack of desire to stand?"

"I cast a cushioning charm," Harry acknowledged with a grin at his subterfuge. "Hermione taught me. I made sure he saw it, and I also tried to act like I was in some pain. It made him look pretty green, really."

"A cushioning charm wouldn't have helped him," Snape informed Harry, trying to keep the smugness out of his voice.

"I knew it!" Harry laughed. "What did you do to him?"

"Me?" Snape intoned. "Me? I'm a wizard that has dedicated his life to being a teacher, to trying to get people to see the effect for their actions. How could I have done something that would educate a former student while exacting revenge for my current ward?"

"Hermione said he had a nightmare of you giving him a severe caning, and that it still hurts," Harry leveled with him. "And everything he touches without the gloves on turns into a cane."

"How interesting."

"As interesting as his memory of you telling him that Hogwarts will revenge itself upon students."

"I am beginning to think that a Gryffindor Legilimens is going to be very inconvenient," Snape intoned, though he realized that he should have known better. Although, a dream wasn't exactly incriminating, and he did not need to confirm nor deny anything.

"The things he touches turning into canes thing doesn't really seem like you, though," Harry mused. "I mean, it's not a potion or Occlumency."

"I have no idea what you mean," Snape sniffed. "You talk as if I were the only adult in Hogwarts that would possibly defend you. I think you completely underrate your head of house; Gryffindors always seem to act with passion and no thoughts to the consequences."

"McGonagall?" Harry asked, surprised. "Really? She always seems so stern."

"Professor McGonagall."

"Professor McGonagall," Harry repeated, agreeing. "That was a wicked hard spell too if Percy couldn't have removed it himself, so of course it would have to be her or some other really powerful wizard. Although, I would be bloody hesitant to touch my wand in such a case."

"Watch your language, and I am not confirming or denying anything," Snape told him, looking austere. "But I do happen to know that if one of her current Gryffindors were ever seriously threatened by a teacher, particularly one that was formerly a Gryffindor, she would take that situation pretty seriously."

"How seriously?" Harry asked, eyes glinting.

"I've always thought that Professor McGonagall had an affinity for numbers," Snape replied. "For instance, she likes the number seventeen in terms of days."

Harry's eyes flew open. "That's how many . . ."

"Precisely," Snape nodded.

"Which means you told her," Harry's eyes glinted. "She wouldn't have known from Ron or Hermione; they didn't know the number."

"You are free to conjecture as you wish," Snape told him, though he was secretly proud that his ward was exercising his deductive reasoning.

"Is that Legilimency?" Harry asked suddenly. "Giving someone a dream, I mean?"

"Legilimency can give people dreams," Snape confirmed. "It's more than reading someone's emotions and thoughts – it can also change their emotions and thoughts. Sending dreams is a natural extension of that."

"Will the Dark Lord try to do that to me?" Harry asked, suddenly serious.

"Of course," Snape nodded. "And it will be especially tempting for him once he learns of your connection."

"I have been having dreams," Harry told him. "I've told you about them. But I didn't tell you that they're getting worse."

"Worse how?" Snape asked, studying Harry's face carefully.

Harry shrugged, not out of indifference but out of a lack of ability to describe it very well. "Just more . . . intense. The longing, the wanting. I see the door, I want in, I want something so badly – but I don't know what."

"I think you are still seeing things from his perspective," Snape told him, trying to reassure him. "There doesn't seem a particular action or anything that he's trying to entice you to take, so I doubt this is something he's sending you on purpose."

"Occlumency isn't helping very much so far," Harry admitted.

"Think carefully," Snape instructed him. "The days that you are better able to do your exercises before bed, are the dreams a little better?"

Harry thought for a moment, and then began nodding. "I think maybe they are," Harry answered. "I mean, last night it was bad – but I didn't do my exercises because, well, I guess you could say I was distracted."

"I healed you," Snape told him sternly. "Pain was no excuse."

"It wasn't the pain that was distracting," Harry admitted. "It was, you know, staying here."

"I'm sorry if your accommodations were not up to your exacting standards," Snape replied sharply, not admitting to himself that he was a little offended by the boy's comments. "I was putting your health before your taste in bedrooms."

"No!" Harry protested, his eyes becoming full and nearly panicking over the misunderstanding. "You don't understand, professor! It's not like that at all! It's just that, well, I couldn't believe I was allowed to stay."

"Why wouldn't you be allowed to stay?" he asked, genuinely confused. "You were in no shape to return after I treated your wounds."

"You are a man that likes his privacy," Harry admitted, looking down. "I mean, you've been so great and everything. I can't believe how much you let me invade it by nattering away at you all the time, bringing my friends around and making you give them extra lessons, and even interrupting you when I'd been caned so you can heal me. I mean, you warned me and everything, and I just went ahead with it. It would have been totally just if you'd turned me away to let me heal by myself. But no, you let me in without even so much as an 'I told you so' and you healed me, even though it was awkward and embarrassing. So I couldn't believe you were so kind as to let me stay the night."

Snape found his lip twitching a bit at the boy's naivety and kindness towards him. He didn't think he would ever get used to this emotional frankness that Harry was showing, there was no guile at all. "You could have an alternative perspective," Snape intoned. "Perhaps you have a guardian who is overprotective and controlling, wanting to know everything about you and even your friends. He forces you to take extra lessons, heals you when he should send you to Madame Pomfrey, and then insisting you stay in his dark dungeon overnight to monitor you. Perhaps you have an overbearing and insufferable guardian."

"Maybe I can use a little overbearing in my life," Harry smiled sadly, chagrined. "It just feels good to have an adult engage me and want to be around me."

Snape felt the grief in that statement, and let it settle in the room. He knew he could have said the same thing at Harry's age, which is what left him so vulnerable to the Dark Lord. Sighing, he said, "I thought you had a visit with your Godfather this last weekend."

"I did," Harry confirmed. "It was fine and all. I mean, he was great."

"You don't seem overly enthusiastic," Snape noticed.

"Well, it's just that, well, I wonder if he really likes me."

"Do you think yourself unlikable?" Snape asked blankly. Who wouldn't like this intelligent, honorable, trusting boy looking to attach to a father figure? It's like he was tailor made for Black to want to adopt.

"No, it's not that," Harry looked away. "I think he might like me just because of my dad. And he seems pretty cagey about Umbridge being killed, like he's ready to have me sent to Azkaban at any moment and is terrified about it."

"Well, he did really like your father," Snape agreed, tackling one complaint at a time. "If Mr. Weasley were to die tragically young, how would you feel towards his offspring? Especially if it was a boy that looked just like him?"

"I guess so," Harry nodded. "I could see that. But it doesn't stop me from wanting him to like me for me, though."

"Perfectly understandable."

"I don't have to worry about that with you," Harry grinned. "I mean, I look like your worst enemy."

"I see it now," Snape told him. "You look just like the Dark Lord; no nose at all."

"Professor!" Harry laughed. "You know what I mean."

"I do," Snape nodded. "And I also understand why your Godfather is so upset about the possibility of you going to Azkaban as well. He spent many years there."

"I guess so," Harry shrugged. "It just gets a little old, right? But do you think I really might go there?"

"I will do everything in my power to prevent it," Snape told him seriously. And he realized that he was serious. Not just a good effort, but his best effort. Even if it meant smuggling Harry away to one of his protected hideaways he had set up for himself in the event that Voldemort found out his true allegiances. Even if it meant Snape himself giving everything up and going with him. "But you need to promise me something."

"Sure," Harry told him, intrigued.

"You need to promise me that if something happens, you will call Dobby and have him take you to the place that I tell him. It's better if you don't know where now, but I will tell him. If you get arrested or captured, you need to call him right away before you get within the wards of Azkaban, because I cannot reach you there."

"I will," Harry promised. "But will he be able to just come like that?"

"Only if called," Snape told him. "But you are his person, and he watches you closely. But he most likely won't come unless you call."

"And he can just apparate me out?"

"He has limitations," Snape explained. "He cannot apparate you out of the Ministry and Azkaban, and of course he couldn't apparate you out of Hogwarts without your consent. But a Hogwarts house elf can apparate a person out if the person consents to it. So when you call him it has to be at a time he can get you out."

"But if we can't apparate ourselves, then why are house elves allowed to do it?" Harry asked, confused. "I mean, couldn't they apparate in some death eaters?"

"They couldn't," Snape tried to explain. "House elves are considered of very little danger to wizards," Snape explained. "They cannot hurt a wizard, nor do anything against their family's will. And for school house elves their master is Dumbledore, and to a broader extent their family is the students."

"But Dobby is a free elf," Harry protested. "Dumbledore is not his master."

"True," Snape nodded. "In fact, I rather think he regards you as his master, or at least his main family. So he would be loyal to you above all else in Hogwarts. So he is in the position of having the abilities of a Hogwarts elf but feeling bound only to you. Which means that even if Percy ordered him not to help you, he should be able to get you out in time."

"That could be brilliant for pranks!" Harry laughed.

"Or I could ask you where you got some dubious potions ingredients," Snape intoned. "I wonder if there might be the same consequences for Gillyweed as there was for the Boomslang skin?" It had taken him several days before he had figured out who had pilfered items from his storage and to set the wards against house elves.

"No pranks!" Harry promised. "No pranks at all! And I didn't tell him to get it, he sort of did it on his own. You can't hold me responsible."

"I most certainly can if I so desire," Snape growled. "You certainly could work out where he got it and never confessed."

"I benefited but didn't do it directly," Harry protested. "Not my fault."

"Hmph," Snape argued, but he knew he wasn't going to pursue it further. "Next time ask."

"I will," Harry promised. "I didn't know you as well then."

"Tomorrow night we have Occlumency lessons," Snape told him. "I will see you and your friends then."

"Do you have plans tonight?" Harry asked, surprised.

"I do," Snape replied, nodding. "And no I'm not going to tell you what my plans are. I'm still entitled to some privacy."

"It's a girl, then?" Harry asked, arching an eyebrow in an uncanny and unconscious imitation of the Potions Master.

"I would hardly be thinking of romance at a time like this," Snape quipped, and then relented a bit. "I will see you tomorrow, Harry."

"Tomorrow," Harry nodded. "And thanks, you know, for Percy. I'm not used to having someone get revenge for me like that."

"Teaching, Mr. Potter," Snape drawled. "I teach, I don't get revenge. Good night."

"Good night," Harry replied, covering himself with the cloak and making his way out of Snape's office.

Sighing, Snape sat and watched the boy go. He then pulled out his wand with great reluctance, and soon a silvery blue doe pranced around the room and came to him expectedly. "Fetch me the wolf and the mutt," he told it briefly. "Tell them it has to be here, and that's it's important but not an emergency."

Watching the blue doe bound away, he wondered to himself if he were making the right decision. Was he over-planning? Although, knowing his ward, he doubted it.


	18. Chapter 18 - Luring

_AN: Sorry about the delay, I've had some combination writers block/good weather/real life. I'm still not completely happy with this chapter, but I've decided to post it and get going with the rest of the story. The killer will be revealed in the next chapter, so it's your last time to guess!_

* * *

Harry woke in the night, his scar burning and his mind racing. He had to save Sirius! Sirius was going to be killed if he didn't do something quick! The screams of his Godfather rang through his mind, awful and terrible screams. Harry's heart raced.

"Ron!" he whispered loudly, throwing his pillow at the nearby red-head. "Wake up!"

"What?" Ron mumbled sleepily.

"Sirius is in danger," Harry told him. "You Know Who has him, and he's going to kill him!"

"Merlin's sakes," Ron breathed, rubbing his eyes. "Did you have a vision about it?"

"He's torturing him," Harry nodded. "He has him at the Ministry of Magic. You've got to help me."

"What should we do?" Ron asked, waking up. "I mean, this could be a fake, right?"

"We have to find a floo and contact Sirius," Harry decided. "Snape would have my hide if I didn't do at least that. Where is the easiest?"

"Percy," Ron nodded. "I heard him saying that his floo was still connected because that's how Umbridge had it. We should be able to contact Sirius from there."

"Great, do you still have some diversions we could use?"

"Dungbombs, sure," Ron nodded. "The twins keep me stocked up, particularly if I promise to use them on Percy."

"Get them," Harry told him. "Make sure you have your cloak too, because if he's not there we're going to the ministry."

"The ministry?" Ron gulped.

"We've got to rescue him!" Harry insisted. "He probably doesn't have very long left. We have to hurry."

"I'm coming, mate," Ron assured him, pulling on his cloak. "I'm there with you. But just asking, do you think ol' Snape will use the cane for it?"

"What?" Harry asked, surprised.

"You know, for faking out Percy and going to the ministry and everything," Ron continued conversationally, trying to sound as if it was no big deal. "I mean, I'm willing to take the cane to rescue Sirius and all, but I was just wondering if it would be the cane or just the paddle."

"I'm not sure," Harry answered, seeming a little hesitant.

"I'm ready," Ron nodded to him. "But you know, I wonder if this isn't just the thing that Snape might, I don't know, actually help us with."

"Do you think he would?"

Ron nodded eagerly, glad to see his friend hesitating. "I do. And he's a much more formidable wizard than either of us."

"But what if he says no?" Harry asked carefully. "I mean, what if he makes me stay here or something? I don't think I could handle that."

"Do ya really think he would?" Ron asked honestly. "I mean, he can surely be a git sometimes – but you said they seemed decent with each other."

"That's true," Harry acknowledged, suddenly feeling very conflicted. Could he trust Snape with this?

"I think this is your call, mate," Ron told him. "And we should probably get Hermione too on this."

Harry relented and nodded, so Ron activated the coin that Hermione had worked out for them to call her if she was in the girl's side of the tower. Within a few moments, Hermione met them in the common room.

"Of course we're going to Snape," Hermione told them once they filled her in. "If Sirius is there being tortured, Snape has a much better chance of rescuing him than a couple of underage wizards. And it could be a trap."

"But he doesn't like Sirius," Ron protested. "What if he doesn't help him?"

"Adults are different," Hermione surmised. "They do what's right even if they don't like the person. Harry, you know that you can't do this on your own."

"We're wasting time," Harry told her, panicking.

"I'll go with you if that's what you decide," Hermione told him. "But surely we can at least give Snape the heads up?"

Harry nodded, seeing her logic. "Hermione, you go to Snape and explain what's going on. Ron and I will work on contacting Sirius using Percy's floo. Okay?"

"Okay," Hermione replied. "But don't go anywhere until we meet up again."

"I've got the Dungbombs," Ron nodded. "Meet you back at Percy's."

. . .

Snape had dozed off by his fire, oddly reluctant to make his way to his bedroom. Sometimes he found himself by the fire still in the morning, having slept the night there. This probably would have been one of those nights, if it had not been for an insistant knocking at his door. Always the spy, he fell instantly awake.

"Professor Snape!" Hermione exclaimed, bursting through the opened door.

"What has happened?" he asked quickly, closing the door firmly behind her. He schooled his emotions carefully, telling himself that just because it was the girl didn't mean that it was his ward.

"Harry needs you!" she told him hurriedly. "He had a vision of You Know Who torturing Sirius black at the Ministry, and he's thinks it's true."

"Why are you here instead of him?" Snape asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Harry and Ron went to Percy's to use his floo," Hermione confessed, not even worried about keeping her friend out of trouble. "They are going to try and reach Sirius to see if he's at home. He sent me to get you."

"I'll go to Grimmauld Place," Snape said. "You go back and tell him that if he goes to the Ministry before I get there he gets the cane."

Gulping, Hermione nodded. "I will," she promised. "But it is good that he sent me though. A year ago he wouldn't have trusted any adult to help him."

"Merlin forbid he would actually come to me himself," Snape answered with a black glare as he threw a pinch of floo powder into the fire. "Grimmauld Place!" he firmly told the floo.

In a whoosh, he found himself at the dusty ruin of the once proud noble house of Black. "Black!" he barked. "Are you here?"

"Master is not here," Kreacher answered Snape, his eyes looking away. "Maybe he's . . ."

"Black!" Snape repeated, striding into the house and ignoring the sniveling house elf. "Harry needs you now!"

Hearing something upstairs, Snape strode up the stairs quickly.

"Half blood traitors!" the portrait screeched at him, also ignored by Snape.

"Black!" Snape yelled. "Harry needs you!"

"What?" he heard behind him. "Snape?"

"Wake up, man!" he ordered the pajama-clad marauder. "Harry needs you."

"Why are you here?" he asked, his voice still sleepy. "Is Harry okay?"

"He had a vision of you being tortured," Snape told him. "I think the Dark Lord is trying to lure him away to the Ministry."

"Why?" Sirius asked, suddenly becoming serious.

"Not for anything good," Snape answered. "Come with me to Hogwarts. Is Remus here?"

"He's still with the . . . others," Sirius told him significantly. Snape saw the worry in Sirius' face, clearly he didn't approve of the work Remus was doing with the other werewolves for the cause.

"Could he be back in time if we contact him?" Snape asked.

"It could endanger him," Sirius told him. "It's probably better without him."

"I'll send a patronus to Dumbledore," Snape nodded. "He should be able to contact the others from the Order. And when I find that boy . . ."

"Let's find him first," Sirius nodded, pulling on a robe. "You can kill him once you know he's safe."

They travelled by floo to Snape's office, and then silently left in the direction of Percy's office. Snape rarely travelled by floo to his office; being open to the floo left you open for unexpected guests and even eavesdropping. But this time he was willing to open it – nothing mattered more than making sure Harry was safe.

They could smell Harry and Ron's efforts before they could see them. A hastily cast Obscurim charm kept them mostly hidden to anybody but the most persistent searcher, and persistent Percy and Filch were not. The scent of the Dungbombs hung heavy in the air, and soon they could hear Percy ranting.

"Of course there were students out here!" they heard him yell. "Can't you smell that, man? Aren't you supposed to keep them in bed at this hour?"

"I don't know who could have done that," Snape heard Filch defend. "Mrs. Norris didn't see anybody. But dungbombs – well, I believe we should be looking for your brothers."

"They can't have gone far," Percy told him fiercely. "They need to learn to follow the rules!"

"We should bring the old punishments back," Filch agreed with him. "I miss the screams."

"You go this way and I'll go this way," Percy directed. "Let's find the culprits before they have a chance to get away."

Snape watched the two of them pace away through the thick smog of the dungbomb, keeping far enough back so they weren't seen. The two then entered the door as quietly as they could, unnoticed by the occupants. Snape saw Harry, seemingly whole, knelt down by the fireplace and looking intently into it. Ron and Hermione, whom Snape had assumed was supposed to be keeping watch, were looking into the fireplace as well.

Snape saw the form of his ward and felt a huge amount of relief wash over him. There was Harry, his body sound and still at Hogwarts, safe and sound. Snape found that he let out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding, and then felt his anger and irritation begin to build. How dare that child risk himself like this?

"But Kreacher, are you sure he's gone?" he heard Harry ask into the fireplace.

"Mr. Potter!" Snape snapped at him, bringing him up off the floor where he was crouching. "Though I am pleased that you are still at Hogwarts, this is not well planned. Not even Percy is fool enough to be gone very long."

"But Sirius . . ." Harry protested, looking up and seeing the man beside Snape. "Sirius!" he yelled out, relief flooding him. Snape felt a strange pang as Harry launched himself at his Godfather, nearly knocking him down in his exuberance.

"I'm fine, Harry," Sirius assured him. "Professor Snape told me you'd had a vision."

"Voldemort was torturing you," Harry cried, tears of relief evident. "It was so real."

"See, I'm totally fine," Sirius told him.

"So was he trying to get me to go there?" Harry asked Snape.

"Evidently," Snape answered. "Thank goodness you didn't go off half-cocked like you'd wanted to do."

"He did send me for you," Hermione explained. "And he said he wouldn't go until you got here."

"Kreacher said you'd been gone for hours," Harry told them.

"He lied, I just left!" Sirius exclaimed. "I'm going to flay the little bugger!"

"He shouldn't be able to do that," Snape told them. "House elves are compelled to tell the truth."

"Perhaps Sirius has been mistreating him too much," Hermione cut in.

"Regardless of the elf, we need to get out of here," Snape told them. "Harry, do you have your invisibility cloak?"

Harry's answer was suddenly cut off as he bent over in pain, clutching his forehead. "He knows!" Harry cried. "He knows I know!"

"Focus on Occlumency," Snape directed him, catching the boy as he fell over, willing him to erect the boundaries.

"He's going to kill all my friends!" Harry declared. "He's showing me how he's going to do it! Oh, Hermione!"

"It's a false vision," Snape told him firmly. "Focus on Occlumency, get him out of your head."

"He knows!" Harry exclaimed. "He knows I care about you! He's going to kill you too, using the mark on your arm!"

Snape clutched his arm, feeling the burning begin and crescendo.

"If I just go and get him what he wants he won't hurt anybody," Harry declared, his eyes clearly panicked. "I should just go."

"No!" Snape ordered, his most authoritative. "Occlude, for Merlin's sake! Don't worry about me!"

But Harry grabbed the floo powder and was in the floo ordering, "Ministry of Magic!" before anybody could stop him. He disappeared just as Sirius dove, missing him.

Snape, still clutching his arm bellowed, "Harry!" and found his heart dropping as his call echoed in the shocked room.


	19. Chapter 19 - Going After Harry

"We have to go after him!" Ron exclaimed.

"Of course," Snape intoned. "What an idiot! When I get my hands on him . . ."

"Was Voldemort controlling him?" Hermione asked. "It was hard to read him, he was so scattered. But he didn't seem, well, he didn't seem to be completely in control of himself. He might not be at fault."

"We shall see," Snape told her. "But our first priority will be to get him back, we can assign fault later." His arm pain started reducing, which meant that Voldemort knew Harry had gone through. They had to act fast.

"What do we do?" Ron asked, unconsciously holding his body as if readying for a fight.

"We've got to go after him," Snape told them. "But I want to do it intelligently. Did Harry take his cloak through?"

"It's here, professor," Ron told him, picking it up. "We used it to get in."

"Sirius and I will go through, hoping that Dumbledore rallies the Order and meets us there," Snape told them. "You two leave here, go back to your rooms."

"Nope," Ron told him boldly. "We're coming with you."

"Are you actually refusing me?" Snape asked him, incredulous. "You will obey me at once!"

"Professor Snape," Hermione interfered before Ron could get himself in deeper. "Please. Harry is our best friend, and we can be of help. If we go through the floo and stay under the cloak, can we come?"

Snape looked at them, and meeting Ron's eyes he knew with very little attempt at Occlumency that they would go through whether he approved it or not. At least this way he had some semblance of control.

"You will stay out of the way," Snape told them. "Your job is to get Harry back here while we distract Voldemort. You are not to take on any full grown wizards."

"We can do that," Hermione agreed. "We'll let you do the work."

"Our strategy will be to blend in until we can do something," Snape told everyone. "No Gryffindor heroics. Harry is depending on us keeping a cool head. That means you too, Black."

Sirius nodded along with the other two, agreeing to follow Snape's lead. It was actually mere moments until Snape and Sirius could follow Harry through the floo, and they went with their wands drawn. He had Hermione and Ron hold onto their robes as they went, otherwise they would never know which fireplace in the ministry they would come out through. The floo network rotated the recipient fireplaces to prevent backups.

"He's been dreaming about the hall of prophecies," Snape told Sirius quietly. "That is where we should start." A quick point me spell was cast wordlessly, and they followed.

They followed Snape swiftly and as quietly as they could manage, making their way to the hall of prophecies. Snape ignored the oddities in the rooms that they passed, though he heard a few gasps from the students under the cloak. His focus was on one thing only – getting to Harry before the Dark Lord could do it.

He could hear Lucius Malfoy before he entered the room, and with a quick flick of his wand both himself and Sirius were garbed in the robes and mask of death eaters. He could see Sirius nod, understanding, and they made their way in wordlessly. Malfoy's mask was off, Snape noticed, and he saw the form of his ward before Malfoy. He had a flash of pride in looking at his ward, knowing that he was no coward. However, even though Harry was brave in the face of Lucius Malfoy, it was also somewhat foolhardy. Snape forced his nerves to calm, quickly giving up the hope of finding him before Malfoy did and forcing himself to think of alternatives. Apparently the floo Harry had caught was closer to the prophecies than his had been. Snape hung back, watching the scene unfold; seeing that Harry had the prophecy in his hand, glowing coldly blue.

"Give it to me now, Potter," Malfoy told him in a seductive voice. "You have seen the power of the Dark Lord. Give it to me now and you and your friends will be spared."

"Attack me and I'll smash it," Harry answered, equally firm. "Then you will have nothing to give your boss."

"Now, now, let's not do anything rash," Malfoy tried to placate him. "We both know your friends are on their way. We could be gone and they could rescue you, and we will all get what we want. Doesn't that sound like the logical option?"

"How about I leave now and you tell your boss to leave me alone," Harry snapped.

Just then, other Death Eaters in their robes and masks emerged from the rows surrounding them, and he saw Harry gulp when he saw. But Snape had to recognize how Harry did not cower, but rather calculate. He was going to use deception.

"All right, all right," Harry said to him. "I'll give it to you, but only if you promise that none of my friends are harmed."

"I promise," Malfoy promised, his lips giving away just a twitch of his intended dishonesty. "I'm just after that orb, nothing more."

"Here, then," Harry looked as if he were going to offer it to him.

Snape's eyes narrowed when he saw Harry's intention, but signaled to the two under the cloak to back away. He was used to being able to recognize other people's motivations and intentions more than others, but he still wondered at how Lucius was taken in. Harry practically broadcast his intentions.

Suddenly, Harry's voice cried out, "Reducto!" as he aimed at the orbs around him, and Snape realized with chagrin that Sirius and Ron and Hermione followed suit. Soon the air was filled with breaking glass, tipping shelves, mournful and shrieking voices of prophecy, and one teenager doing his best to escape the room.

The Death Eaters followed as best they could around the smashing prophecies. Snape followed as well, using his unassisted flight to blend in with the other death eaters. They followed Harry out to the main hallway, where suddenly wispy smoke trails of others were adding to their group – the Order of the Phoenix. Catching Black's attention, he flicked his wand again, revealing him to be himself. Now that the Order was here Black no longer had to hide as a Death Eater.

Nobody saw the transformation, and he called out, "Black! I've been waiting for this opportunity to teach you a lesson!"

Sirius, quicker on the uptake than Snape had any right to expect, yelled, "Then come and get it you Death Eater scum!" and began dueling with him in a way that looked dramatic but caused no real harm.

Snape, easily blocking the lackluster curses Sirius was throwing at him, looked around as the Death Eaters matched up with members from the Order to battle. But where was Harry? Snape spotted a randomly uncovered foot and realized that Ron and Hermione were making their way over to him. He breathed a sigh of relief – Malfoy and some random Death Eaters they could handle.

Suddenly, Snape's arm burned and he knew that Voldemort had arrived. He frantically looked towards Harry, wondering if he could get to the boy and apparate him out. Voldemort being here changed the game irreparably.

"Harry Potter!" Voldemort boomed. "Give me the prophecy!"

Harry looked at the dark Lord across the room and paled, but shouted, "Never!"

Voldemort roared with anger, but instead of casting the killing curse as Snape feared he cast something different – something that may have been even worse. He entered Harry's mind. Harry then fell, his face contorted in pain and disgust, barely able to keep ahold of the prophecy. Groaning and growling, Snape felt helpless to interfere. He found himself sending wishes of Occlumency towards the boy, but realizing that even if Harry suddenly became a master Occlumens, it was hopeless.

Harry, writhing on the ground, was clearly fighting the curse. Snape watched as an underaged wizard fought harder and more effectively than he had seen many others fight – but he knew the inevitable. Voldemort was too strong and too evil; the boy didn't stand a chance. Snape found his stomach turning to ice and tears begin to prickle his eyes – he was going to watch the demise of the person he loved the most. And there was nothing he could do. Even if he could reach the boy and get him to a place that he could apparate him out – which was highly doubtful in a sea of Death Eaters – he would still be possessed with the Dark Lord. And this was not just an imperious, which Harry had thrown off before. This was full possession. And even given the weakening that Snape's meddling had done in his resurrection, Voldemort was still a very powerful wizard. Harry was going to die, and it was going to be horrible. Snape had seen enough people die to know that this was the only possible outcome. His grief – something he had not felt to this degree since the night Lily died, began to rise up and nearly overwhelm him. The fighting around them nearly stopped, as everyone watched the boy who lived die. It was just all so foolish and pointless – one instance of the boy not obeying him and it was going to cost him his life.

But then, nearly imperceptibly, Snape saw something change. Harry's expression cleared a bit maybe, or the steel grey invading his skin retreated a bit. Harry's limbs moved more purposefully – less jerkily. Harry lifted up his face, and Snape saw that his expression had changed as well. His body rolled onto his stomach, and then pushed himself up onto his knees. Harry looked around, fixing his eyes on Sirius as the nearest friendly face he recognized. "You tried to kill me as a baby!" he yelled, suddenly controlling his voice once again. "And I have a happy life now! I have friends and family that I love and love me! GET OUT OF MY BLOODY BODY!"

And with that bold declaration, Harry drew his body upward and drew his wand. Shocked beyond speaking, Snape realized that Harry had just thrown off the Dark Lord's possession. As an under-aged child. An under-aged child that was barely passing potions. And he did it with a declaration of love and friendship. Snape could barely believe his eyes.

"Get the kids and apparate out," he heard Sirius whisper quickly to him. "I'll distract Voldemort and the others while you do."

"No, you'll get killed!" Snape protested. "When Dumbledore gets here . . ."

"Look in the grey box on my bookshelf for my confession and pensive memory, in case I don't make it," Sirius told him. "The password is Prongs. And don't let them implicate Dobby, I cut the memory so that it wouldn't show him popping me into Umbridge's office. The little blighter just wanted to protect Harry, I was the impulsive idiot with the knife."

"What?" Snape gasped, incredulous. "But . . ."

"Get the kids out," Sirius repeated, not giving Snape a choice. "You know he bloody well needs you more than me. Go."

Snape, the consummate Slytherin, decided to not let Black's idiotic sacrifice be in vain. His mind could process this new information later, right now he had a chance at saving Harry and he was going to take it. He approached Harry and the others swiftly as a Death Eater, but he could tell Harry recognized his stride and knew it to be him. He had to get them to a place that he could apparate – but how to do that?

"Pick on someone your own size!" Sirius yelled at Voldemort, firing a string of curses.

Bellatrix, seizing on the opportunity, began firing at Sirius. And just as that was beginning, Snape realized that Dumbledore had appeared. Breathing a sigh of relief, he knew that soon Voldemort would have his hands full and there was a chance he could get Harry away. He saw that as Voldemort's gaze shifted to the spell Dumbledore fired at him, the invisibility cloak covered Harry and knocked him to the ground. Feet weren't perfectly covered, but enough that other people weren't aiming at them. Snape, still in his Death Eater Mask, dove towards the bundle of invisibility and yanked the nearest flailing arm – he was guessing it was Weasley's – toward the area with the floo fireplaces to get out. They mostly cooperated in his directive, stumbling out of the room together. Everybody seemed so preoccupied with watching the clash of Dumbledore and Voldemort that nobody noticed the odd movements of a masked Death Eater in the corner.

But then, Bellatrix gave a short, harsh laugh and Snape managed to look as a she volleyed what Snape could see was the killing curse at Sirius. Snape quickly conjured a snake to put in its path – a killing curse could of course not be blocked with a shield – but the snake missed the evil green bolt of light. The curse landed on Sirius, knocking him backwards as his lifeless body fell backwards into a heap. He did not move, his lifeless eyes staring upwards towards the ceiling and his wand hand uncurling from around his wand, causing it to roll slightly forward. In the midst of the storm of the battle, Snape focused on that one hand curled upward as if in supplication.

Just then, Dumbledore began to rain ice and snow upon Voldemort as he responded with a huge wave of fire. The other battle began to die down as all the wizards began watching as the two great wizards locked into battle.

"You will not win this, Riddle," Dumbledore boomed at him.

"I will have that prophecy!" Voldemort hissed at him, sending a curse that broke all the glass in the hall, raining it down on everyone.

Snape, his brain still in survival mode and his body driven by pure adrenaline and a quick strengthening spell, scooped up the three under the cloak and used his unassisted flight to get them into the floo fireplaces before they could even process or realize what they had just seen.

He yelled, "Professor Snape's office, Hogwarts!" and they were swept away just as Harry yelled, "Sirius! No!"

 _AN: Please let me know what you think about the big reveal – were you surprised? I tried to have enough clues to make people realize it was Dobby and Sirius, so I'm hoping some people had at least considered it. Nobody guess right, however, at least to me. The goal of a good mystery is to make it hard to guess but then have people look back and have it make sense – so I hope I achieved that here. Thanks for reading! We have a few chapters to resolve the last bits, but the story is almost over. Oh, and I am very sorry that I killed Sirius, but I think it had to happen. Let me know what you think?_


	20. Chapter 20 - Frozen

Snape pulled the three into the room, casting a spell to block his floo from anybody that might try to come through it.

"We have to save Sirius!" Harry cried out, throwing himself back at the fireplace.

"It's too late!" Snape told him harshly. "If you go back now his sacrifice will be for nothing!"

"I won't have him sacrifice for me!" Harry yelled hotly.

"He already has!" Snape told him strongly, and then softened. "He's dead, Harry. Dead. If you go back now you only give the Dark Lord what he wants."

"He can't be dead," Harry cried, tears beginning down his face. "He just can't be. It's my fault, I shouldn't have gone."

"It is not your fault," Snape told him firmly. "This is completely Voldemort's fault."

"But Sirius . . ."

"I will go back and check on him, but only if you promise to stay here," Snape told him firmly. "Promise me."

"But Sirius . . ."

"You would do him no good there," Snape told him. "And you would hinder me. If I don't believe you will stay here then I will not go back."

"Go back," Harry admitted defeat. "I'll stay."

"Sidekicks too?" he asked, looking pointedly at Ron and Hermione.

"We'll stay with Harry," Hermione declared as Ron nodded.

"I will be back as soon as I can," Snape told them. "I promise."

With that, he flooed back into the ministry. By the time he had dumped through the floo network at the ministry, he could tell that the battle between Dumbledore and Voldemort had really heated up. They had moved into the main part of the building, and shards of broken glass covered the floor. Snape watched as Dumbledore swooped up the broken glass with a wand motion and rained it down upon Voldemort, who was having visible problems fighting Dumbledore. He was able to shield, but everyone watching saw that he was tiring. Bellatrix fought at his side, her eyes crazed. It was clear the Death Eaters were losing.

Snape held back, uttering the words to the obscuring spell and hoping he wouldn't be noticed. Voldemort or Dumbledore were both powerful enough to sense him even if he were invisible, but he was hoping that they were preoccupied at the moment.

Suddenly, with a roar of frustration, Voldemort threw the killing curse at Dumbledore and at the same time grabbed Bellatrix and did the unassisted flight to the floo. With a howl of frustration, he flooed away from the scene. Taking it as a signal, the remaining Death Eaters flooed out as well, leaving the still and groaning bodies of a few of their number. The Order quickly went to those few, even as Snape saw Dumbledore turn to a flabbergasted Minister of Magic.

"Well, there you have it, Minister," Snape heard him say tiredly. "I trust you are convinced now."

"But, but . . ." Fudge stumbled, unable to speak clearly.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure this is a shock to you," Dumbledore said kindly, with only a hint of gloating. "But this could also be a good chance for you to rally the troops, so to speak? Now that you have definitive proof of Voldemort being back, you can mount an offensive against him."

Fudge, paling at Dumbledore's words, nodded as if he wasn't sure what else to do. Things were obviously going to have to change, and he suddenly felt a great deal of trepidation on being the one to do it.

Snape, realizing that part of the drama was over, went to where he had seen Sirius fall. He did not get too close, cognizant of not wanting to be seen clearly, and he saw Tonks checking him to see if he survived the ordeal. It was very clear that he had not survived, and that there had been no hope of resuscitation. This didn't surprise Snape at all; Bella was cruel and determined in her spell casting. But he also felt a very strange feeling of regret. He imagined telling Harry, and he found his stomach twist uncomfortably. It wasn't that he missed the man, specifically, but rather dreaded telling Harry, he told himself.

But looking at the man surrounded by the order members, some in tears and others looking shocked and lost, and he also felt a twinge of something different. If he himself had been killed, would there have been that sorrow. For some, perhaps. Perhaps Dumbledore, maybe a few of his students in Slytherin. And also now Harry, who had become a feature in his life as he had become in his.

 _Meet me in my office in ten minutes_ , he heard a firm command from what had to be Dumbledore. The headmaster didn't communicate using Legilimency often, but he did if the need was great. Snape mentally acknowledged the request, wishing he could get back to Harry as soon as he could. But, some answers would probably be helpful to Harry too, so he agreed to go.

"Why was he there?" Dumbledore demanded as Snape entered his office. "Is he okay?" Neither pretended to not know who he was talking about.

"He was lured there using a false vision," Snape replied, trying to stay logical and fighting feelings of defensiveness. "The vision was of Black being tortured, so he contacted me while trying to verify Sirius' whereabouts. When the Dark Lord realized that Harry didn't believe the vision, he then tortured him with what he was going to do to his friends, loved ones, and me if he didn't come. I tried to stop him, but was unable to do it. I then followed with Black and Granger and Weasley, as they insisted on coming and would have come even if I'd forbidden it. They came under an invisibility cloak, though, and at my assistance were only focused on retrieving Potter. Harry and his cohorts are safe in my office, but Sirius died in giving me the distraction I needed to get them to safety. But headmaster, there is more."

"More?" Dumbledore asked, incredulous.

"Black realized his chance of surviving was slim," Snape told him. "He told me of a box in his possession that holds evidence that he is the one to commit the murder for which Harry is suspected. He asked me to reveal the information in such a way as to not implicate Dobby."

Dumbledore, taken aback by the information, sat down at his seat. Staring at his desk, he began to nod. "It makes sense," he answered, fitting the pieces together. "Dobby was so distraught about Harry's mistreatment he sought to fix it as he could do nothing himself. So he got Sirius, and Sirius in his half-mad state from leaving Azkaban struck out at her."

"But in the back?" Severus asked, a bit taken aback.

"That may not be a question we're not able to address until we see the evidence," Dumbledore acknowledged. "But I can imagine the man distraught at Harry's mistreatment, rage at feeling helpless to help his Godson, and being a bit unhinged after the years with the dementors. But it's possible."

"He asked me to let him know if Potter were ever formally accused so he could take the blame," Snape told him. "Obviously a way of keeping Potter from paying the price instead of himself. Looking back now I wonder how I missed the clues. The old family knife, obviously from the Blacks. Remus was more upset about the revelation of the use of the black quill upon Harry, but that makes sense of Sirius already knew. Even Sirius' acceptance of me as the guardian makes sense if he came to the conclusion that he was never going to be able to be sane enough to have that role with Harry."

"Hindsight," Dumbledore agreed. "Get that information to me as soon as you can, and we shall decide how we proceed on how to release it."

"He told me that Harry needed me more than himself, and he sacrificed for us to get away," Snape told Dumbledore, looking away.

"He was right," Dumbledore told him gently. "Harry does need you, Severus. Black's action was foolhardy, brave, and utterly Gryffindor. He knew that Harry needed you and needed to get away, and took the risk. He died a hero defending his best friend's son, a death I'm sure he wished he'd had on that fateful night many years ago."

"I still don't like the man," Snape grumbled, trying to even name the deep emotions about black and that night so many years ago.

"I don't expect that you do," Dumbledore smiled kindly. "But that doesn't change the fact that you admire his sacrifice. Make sure Harry understands that and doesn't blame himself for his death. His death is squarely the fault of Voldemort."

"I will," Snape agreed. "But one other thing. Why didn't you finish the Dark Lord, Headmaster? The weakening that I did to him should have made you able to defeat him."

"I could have," Dumbledore acknowledged. "But until we know for certain that me killing this body that he's in will truly end him, I prefer to keep him in the weakened one. So I battled him enough to make him think myself not as strong as I was and for the ministry to see. It will do him good to underestimate me a bit."

"I understand," Snape agreed. "We have more to discuss, but now I believe I am needed at Hogwarts."

"And I at the Ministry," Dumbledore agreed. "I believe I may no longer be the pariah that I have been previously."

And with that, Snape returned to his office. He expected to find Harry sobbing and distraught, perhaps being comforted by his friends. Instead, he found Harry quite calm – obviously far too calm. Hermione was wringing her hands and Ron was looking very near tears, and they all three looked as if they were waiting for him to come. Waiting for him to tell them that what they had seen with their eyes and knew with the hearts wasn't true.

"It is over," Snape told them, his tone softer than usual. "The Dark Lord survived and has retreated. The minister witnessed the duel between the Dark Lord and Dumbledore, and is now willing to see reason. Regrettably, there has been injuries and casualties on both sides. Sirius Black is one of them."

"No!" Ron protested. "I mean he was just here, I talked to him not a half hour ago. He can't be dead."

"I'm very sorry that he is," Snape acknowledged. "He died a hero, rescuing people he cared about."

"You don't like him," Harry accused, though his voice was wooden and non-emotional.

"No, I didn't," Snape answered, carefully putting the past-tense into his words. "But even I have to admire his courage."

"It's my fault," Harry whispered, still seeming as if his emotions were completely separate from his body."

"It is not your fault," Snape corrected him firmly. "Any more than it was my fault that the spell I cast to protect him failed. Any more than it's Lupin's fault that he was away on a mission. Any more than it was anybody's fault here. The Dark Lord is responsible, and Bellatrix LeStrange. They are who killed him."

"He wouldn't have been there if it wasn't for me," Harry argued.

"Or me," Snape answered him. "I'm the one that fetched him. But Harry, there is another thing that I must tell you tonight."

"What is that?" Harry asked, curiosity sparking some note of life in his eyes.

"Sirius confessed to me and has told me where to find evidence that proves that he is the one to kill Umbridge."

"What?" Harry asked, his eyes flying wide.

"Apparently Dobby, distraught by the damage he saw Professor Umbridge inflict upon you, fetched Sirius to put a stop to it. In his half-crazed state after Azkaban, he did. He had told me that if you were ever accused he would take the blame for it, but he made it sound as if that would be lying to the Aurors. Apparently it would not have been."

"It makes sense!" Hermione cried, the pieces clicking together in her head. "Upon reflection, he really is the only one that could have done it. The motive, means, opportunity, weapon . . . it's all here. It seems so clear now."

"Indeed," Snape agreed. "I have come to that conclusion myself."

"Because house elves can't hurt humans," Ron understood. "That little elf is bloody brilliant!"

"I believe murder is not normally considered 'bloody brilliant' Weasley," Snape corrected him. "He didn't help you win a Quidditch match."

"Then that's my fault too," Harry woodenly declared, hanging his head. "He wouldn't have done it if I had just kept my sodding mouth shut in class. I thought I was helping . . . and just hurting myself."

"This blame will get you nowhere, Harry," Snape told him firmly. "You are not actually responsible for every bad thing that happens in the world, nor to those around you. And right now, I am going to run a diagnostic on you and then tuck you into bed here in my quarters. I will cancel my classes tomorrow and stay here with you."

"There's no need for me to stay here, professor," Harry answered, watching as Snape ran his wand over Harry to assess for damages. "I can go back to the tower. I don't need special treatment."

"You should stay here, Harry," Hermione urged him. "You're in shock, distraught. Someone you loved just died defending you, that is no small thing."

"I'd rather be in the tower," Harry answered, looking down and sighing a little. "Please, Professor? I want to go to classes, too. Maybe just doing normal things will help me stay . . . busy. Feel normal."

"You will check in with me after classes," Snape answered in reply, understanding. He also didn't want staying with him to feel forced or like a punishment – but he worried about not having more time to process this with Harry. "We will spend tomorrow evening together, and hopefully I will have more information by then as well."

"Can Ron and Hermione come?"

"After dinner," Snape nodded. "We will have a quiet dinner here together first, and then I will update all three of you on everything. Agreed?"

The three nodded, and Snape saw the tiredness and the terror they all still had. Wordlessly summoning three small vials, he pressed them into Hermione's hand. "Dreamless sleep," he told them. "You each take one vial when you are laying down on your bed, as you will be out within a minute of taking it. None of you need dreams tonight."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione acknowledged.

"I will escort you back in came Percy and Filch are still about," Snape announced. "And then straight to bed."

Snape worried as he watched Harry shuffle quietly to his room. Rage he could understand and take, in some ways he half expected Harry to yell and scream and accuse him of not helping Black enough. Or even sobbing and grieving he would feel better about – although perhaps he would have taken Harry to Poppy. The stern matron always seemed to know just how to handle young people's emotions. But this stoic, wooden frozen state – he had no idea how to be of help. But it was obvious that Harry wasn't handling this well at all.


	21. Chapter 21 - Tea with McGonagall

_Barring unforseen issues arising in the writing of the next chapter, it shall be the last one, with perhaps an epilogue. Thank you so much for all of the faithful readers who have followed this story! I am also spending some time contemplating my next story. :)_

* * *

Snape dismissed his last class, wondering how Harry was going to be with him that afternoon. He had an hour before Harry was done with classes for the day, and he found himself at a loss. Harry had been wooden and frozen still in class, not looking at anybody and not paying attention either. The only response he got out of the boy was a slight nod when he reminded him to come to his quarters after his last class. Would he have to resort to consulting a mind healer for the boy?

"Professor Snape," he heard a stern Scottish voice rap out. "I wish a word with you."

"Of course, Professor McGonagall," he replied, his voice overly polite, though he was surprised to see her. "Would you care for tea?"

"That isn't necessary," she told him, nodding curtly. "But appreciated. I assume you have a moment to chat?"

"Of course," Snape agreed, his wonder at what brought her to his classroom overcoming his lack of desire for social contact. "I will call the elf."

"Good," she agreed. "I am sure you're wondering what brings me here."

"I do find myself wondering a bit, Professor," Snape admitted, seating himself by the small table that was suddenly burdened with a teapot and a plate of biscuits. The Hogwarts house elves were nothing if not incredibly efficient. "You have never sought my company like this before."

"Perhaps not," she agreed. "But I do think there is a story you are overdue to hear."

"You have my complete attention, Madame," Snape nodded at her.

"Perhaps tea first," she directed, her voice having just the slightest tone of criticism. "We are civilized, you know."

"How do you take your tea?" he asked her calmly, forcing the curiosity out of his mind and voice.

"White with no sugar," she told him, watching him pour the tea as if they had tea together every week. "Sugar ruins the flavor."

"With the niceties attended to," he told her with slight sarcasm, passing her the cup that was ridiculously painted on the side with violets. Truly, did the house elves have no decorum? "Perhaps we should get on with it?"

"It has to do when you were in school," the Professor began, smiling slightly at his honesty. Pomona would never believe that she had a polite afternoon tea with the snarly, snappy head of Slytherin. "It has to do with the time that Sirius Black played a very cruel joke on you, one that could have ended in your death had it not been for the timely intervention of James Potter."

"I believe that I remember the incident," Snape answered, his eyes flashing. Of course he remembered, that was the pinnacle of their cruelty to him. It also left him with a great fear of werewolves; Professor McGonagall wasn't kidding in that the incident could have ended in his death. And it still rankled a bit that James Potter was the one that had saved him as well, it had given him less ammunition for his hatred of him.

"I believe I told you previously that I did punish the Marauders on occasion, but I would like to give you more details into that particular event," she told him. "Unless you'd rather not hear?"

"I believe I would be interested in this information," he responded, finding himself intensely curious. He sat back with his own cup of tea, black with two lumps. He normally took his tea like Professor McGonagall did, not liking sugar much himself. But at her prim comment about sugar in tea he felt a perverse urge to have his tea opposite to the head of Gryffindor. However, now he regretted it a bit, the sickly sweet of the sugar really did overpower the taste of the tea.

"After the . . . incident, Sirius black was quite upset," she explained. "Albus gave him a proper scolding the night of the incident, but had decided to leave the consequences up to his head of house. Sirius knew that I was going to discuss his discipline the following evening, and that entire day he spent frozen and unfeeling. I believe that a large part of what led to him being in this state was his guilt."

"Guilt?" Snape asked, incredulous. "I thought it would have been his disappointment that I wasn't torn limb from limb or perhaps turned into a werewolf myself."

"And what would have happened if you had been?" she asked sharply. "His best friend would have been arrested and likely executed. Let alone himself – there could have been a verra good case made for aiding a murderer. Had James not actually worked out the cause and effect in the situation, his best friend could have faced death and his other best friend could have faced Azkaban. All for a prank."

"It was bad enough to hardly be called a prank," Snape agreed darkly.

"I agree with you," McGonagall nodded. "But even without Legilimency, I can tell a lad that is lying. And it was verra clear that he meant to scare you, not kill you. It was a cruel and dangerous prank that could have had far worse implications than he had anticipated. James Potter dressed him down harshly when he returned to the dorms, and when Remus awoke the next day Sirius' actions were felt by him as a very deep betrayal. Remus was crushed by the actions of his friend, and worse yet Sirius knew he was right. In the span of less than a day Sirius Black received censure from the people that he would wholeheartedly say that he loved the most."

"And so you punished him?" Snape asked incredulously. "I would think you would have given him a cuddle if your precious Gryffindor was so upset. He must have had quite the time of it, trying to kill someone and getting scolded for it."

"He needed a punishment that fit his actual crime, not the unintended consequences," she replied firmly, ignoring Snape's sarcasm. "If he had gotten the one he perhaps deserved for where his actions could have led, he would have been in Azkaban. But I gave him the one he deserved for his intentions, as I believed was just."

"How is that different?" Snape asked venomously.

"You more than anyone should know the answer to that," she quipped. "I believe you have punished yourself for years due to the results of your actions rather than your intentions."

"How much has that bloody old coot told you?" Snape blazed.

"It doesn't take a Legilimens to see these things," she quipped. "It just takes a keen eye and some applied logic. Both of which I possess; Dumbledore rarely finds it necessary to tell me much at all."

"So what good does it do to punish the intention?" he asked, sounding for the first time a bit unguarded.

"Intentions are what we control," she answered. "I could invite dear Pomona Sprout to tea, and my intentions would be to have a nice chat with an old friend and enjoy some biscuits together. But what if she encounters something harmful along the way, and perhaps breaks a bone? Am I responsible?"

"Of course not," Snape replied, understanding.

"Of course not," she agreed, taking another biscuit. She enjoyed matching wits with such a worthy adversary. "I meant only good to my friend, not harm. Though it is true that she would not have been hurt had I not invited her to tea, her being hurt was clearly not my intention. Even if I had meant some harm, and was inviting her to yell at her or to play a mean prank to her, I am still not morally responsible if something other than my intentions happened accidently. Nobody can predict the hundreds of actions that could befall someone in those circumstances."

"I understand," Snape nodded slowly.

"And a hug would hardly have sufficed for a lad feeling that guilty," she admonished, addressing his earlier comment. "He knew he deserved punishment, and so I obliged. I believe he felt much better afterwards, or at least after a bit when he could sit comfortably again. And it helped him make it up to his friends as well, I believe they felt some sympathy for him after he received his due."

"The cane?" Snape asked acerbically.

"No so cruel as that," she gave a quick shake of her head. "I have never used that on a student. He got the strap."

Snape sat on that information. In reality, it surprised him; he had not realized that McGonagall would take such a strong line with her pupils. Although it shouldn't have surprised him as much, remembering the incident in which he had pretended to cane Harry last year and she gave him her approval. "You said he was like Harry? In shock?"

"Yes, he was," she nodded. "But all the coddling in the world would not have helped. The child knew he had done something wrong, and he couldn't cope with that. I helped him cope with the guilt."

"Are you saying that's what I should do with Harry?" he asked, surprised. Just when he thought he had this woman figured out.

"I will not interfere with a man and his ward," she told him briskly. "But anyone can see that he needs something."

"He does feel guilty about going, even when I had told him not to go," Snape realized. "He knows that if he hadn't gone against what I had ordered then Sirius Black would still be alive."

"But that wasn't his fault," she agreed. "And I would also tell you, Severus Snape, that I also did comfort Sirius Black afterwards. He was afraid that he was evil; that the incident was his true nature and the nature of his family coming through. He thought that I would not want him in my house anymore."

"But that man is . . . was a Gryffindor if ever there was one," Snape shook his head.

"Which is exactly what I told him," she nodded. "Children feel most vulnerable when they are being disciplined, especially if they deserve it. He needed the discipline, surely, but he needed the reassurance more than anything. But he couldn't hear the reassurance until after he felt as if he'd paid for his misdeed."

"I see," he replied.

"You also have to think about what you could be communicating if you don't discipline him," McGonagall told him firmly. "Perhaps that he's too delicate? That there aren't consistent boundaries? That you can't be trusted?"

"I see what you're saying, and I thank you for bringing this matter to my attention," Snape told her, setting down his teacup. He was beginning to formulate a plan for how he was going to interact with Harry this evening. "And I thank you for your sound advice."

"Thank you for being receptive," McGonagall nodded, setting her teacup down as well. "You may not believe this, Professor, but I was very gratified when you took my advice, quite belatedly, and became Mr. Potter's guardian. He has done well under your care."

"Thank you, Professor," he told her sincerely as they both got up. "I can tell how much you care for the boy as well."

"Yes, well, I'm sure you have a busy afternoon ahead of you, I won't keep you," she straightened her skirts and headed for the door with a twinkle in her eye. "We should have these chats more often, Severus. I find myself enjoying your company."

And with that, the head of Gryffindor left the room, leaving the head of Slytherin very taken aback indeed and not even being able to formulate a reply until she was well away. Did she say such outrageous things just to get a rise out of him? How dare she suggest that they have regular tea parties! The very idea!

But in all seriousness, he did have to deal with Harry. He knew Professor McGonagall well enough to know she was probably right, that Harry was in a frozen state induced by guilt, much as Sirius Black had been. And she was probably right about the cure as well. He had to admit to himself that he would just rather focus on helping the child grieve, but what if she was right about what he would be communicating if he didn't address this with Harry? Could him accepting censure for his actions actually help him grieve? He felt a little overwhelmed by how much this parenting thing really did differ from being a head of house.

. . .

Snape watched Harry enter his quarters that afternoon with no trepidation at all, just wooden motions. Harry sat himself on the sofa, looking down, as if waiting for the world to fall down around him. Snape could see that it might have to.

"We have several things that I want to discuss this afternoon," Snape told him firmly. "And also more when your friends get here after dinner. Do you have any preferences on where to start?"

Harry shrugged his answer, not looking up.

"Would you like to discuss the Dark Lord possessing you? The revelation that Sirius Black killed Umbridge? The duel between the Dark Lord and Dumbledore?"

Again, he got another shrug. Professor McGonagall was right, though Snape would have much preferred a discussion first. But Harry was in no place for that discussion now.

"Very well, perhaps we should start with your direct disobedience in going to the Ministry," Snape sternly rapped.


	22. Chapter 22 - Crying

_The awkward, bony boy was hurried along up the walkway by an impatient police officer. The officer ignored the overgrown hedges and the peeling paint; he had seen it all before. This boy was like one of hundreds in his precinct – underfed, under-loved, and trying to survive. And this one's gangly and awkward looks would endear him to nobody._

 _"I'll reckon you'll get the strap for this one," the officer told the boy, but not without sympathy. "Come on, best get it over."_

 _"You could let me go," the boy tried. "I wouldn't tell anyone. I could come home later when its . . . quieter."_

 _"You know better than that," the man told the boy. "The only reason ol' Mrs. Hawthorne isn't pressing charges is because I told her I'd take you home and make sure your father knew what you'd done."_

 _"It was only a bit of food," the boy protested. "I, I was hungry."_

 _"I grew up in this neighborhood, too, lad," the police offer told him firmly. "You and I both know that there are other options. When I was your age I used to trade chores for a meal. However, tonight I can take you home and you get the strap, but in a few years it will be the lockup for you. Take my advice, keep your head down and your nose clean. Take your medicine tonight and let it be a lesson to you."_

 _"My father . . ." the boy began, but didn't finish._

 _"A bit hard case?" the cop asked. "My old man too. Nothing to be done for it, though. Here we go, son."_

 _The boy allowed the police officer to usher him to the door and knock on the faded paint._

 _. . ._

Harry flinched at the voice, and Snape realized that he had finally gotten some sort of reaction out of the boy. "Perhaps once we have . . . dealt with that you will be more able to engage in other discussion," Snape told him.

Harry didn't move, though he did seem to shrink a bit within his robe.

"Surely you didn't think I would let direct disobedience in a critical situation just go?" Snape asked him, not waiting for a response. "I had sent a message through Hermione to you that if you went to the Ministry before I got there that you would get the cane. Technically I had arrived before you left, so I believe I will not use the cane in this instance. You will get the slipper, but it will be a stern punishment."

"Yes, sir," Harry whispered, still not able to look up, and not protesting beyond the initial flinch.

"You will be on my lap," Snape told him firmly. "So no good protesting it."

Harry nodded, agreeing to the subterfuge that he wouldn't rather be on Snape's lap for his punishment. Snape could see the resignation on the boy's face, and found himself ruing the fact that he was again in the place of a stern disciplinarian. He was going to have to take the boy out for ice cream in the next week or two just so he could have some good memories of his guardian, not just disciplinary ones.

"You clearly heard me command to not go," Snape told him. "You thought you knew better and went anyway."

"With pretty horrible results," Harry softly agreed.

"You are not being punished for the unintended consequences to your actions," Snape told him smoothly. "But for your intentional disobedience."

"Don't say that his death wasn't my fault," Harry told him darkly. "Don't lie to me to make me feel better."

"Mr. Potter, let me assure you that I do not lie to you," Snape told him, striding over to the couch and motioning for the boy to follow. "And my intention right now is not to make you feel better. In fact, quite the opposite. Let's commence with your punishment."

Harry sighed, knowing the inevitability of it, and bent over Snape's bony lap as Snape wordlessly accio'd a slipper from another cupboard. He still felt a little confused as to why he wasn't getting the cane, and to be honest a part of him wondered if he didn't deserve it. If he had just listened to Snape and not gone . . .

"You will obey me when I give you a direct command like that," Snape told him firmly. "Especially for such an important safety issue. I need to be able to rely on you to listen enough to not get yourself killed."

"Yes sir," Harry answered, feeling the vulnerability of being bent over the man's lap with his backside in the air. "But it wasn't myself that I got killed."

"You need to stop it with the aggrandized guilt," Snape told him in the same stern voice. "You do not control anybody but yourself, and you certainly did not intend to get your Godfather killed. True you did disobey me, but you have also disobeyed me many other times and nobody died as a result. Except perhaps your backside a few of the times."

"But it was my fault, don't you see?" Harry insisted, tears forming. "If I hadn't . . ."

"Let me ask you this," Snape interrupted. "If you had known the results of your going to the Ministry, would you have done it?"

"No," Harry answered, choking a bit.

"Then what you are guilty of is not being psychic," Snape told him. "And even though you took that abysmal class, I would have to say that Divination has not ever been your strong suit. You didn't even have a good reason to suspect that your Godfather would be involved at all."

Harry mumbled something, and for once Snape's keen ears didn't catch it.

"What was that?" he insisted.

"It could have been you," Harry grumbled a little louder. "What if it had been you? Or Hermione? Or Ron? Maybe I didn't know S-Sirius was coming, but I didn't think about y-you."

"Oh but you did," Snape told him. "What was the vision that got you going there? Ice Mice and Chocolate Frogs? No, it was the vision of Voldemort promising to torture and kill those that you care about. If you had cared less about your friends and me then you would have not gone. That is how he got you."

"You said he was the master at manipulating through visions," Harry answered. "I should have known."

"Grown wizards have fallen prey to his visions," Snape assured him. "Let alone an underage boy. No, your fault lies in disobedience, and this taking responsibility for every magical mishap since Merlin is not going to distract me from your punishment. Now ready yourself, you deserve stern censure for your behavior."

With that, Snape brought the slipper down firmly on Harry's backside. Harry remained still beyond a small gasp of breath, and Snape continued the spanking. He placed firm, brisk strokes all over the lad's backside, and frowned a bit as the boy remained still and silent.

"Your being still and quiet doesn't dissuade me in the least of your deserving punishment," Snape told him, pausing.

"Do you actually want me to cry?" Harry asked, incredulous.

"It would be better than this frozen behavior," Snape answered firmly. "In fact, your lack of reaction makes me wonder if I'm doing a good enough job of it."

"You are," Harry replied in a voice that was very close to a sob. "But I, I deserve it . . . deserve worse . . . the cane . . ."

"I am not some sort of milksop as a guardian that lets children off for being cute," Snape snapped at him. "And I am giving you what you deserve. I can do this all day, if need be." Snape resumed the smacking, aiming stern smacks at the lad's backside.

"Oww," Harry quietly protested. "That hurts."

"It's supposed to," Snape told him, continuing the smacking without relenting in the slightest. "You were quite naughty in disobeying me."

"I'm, I'm sorry," Harry gasped. "So sorry."

"And you will do your best to obey me in the future?" Snape asked, not slowing the smacking.

"Ye – Yes!" Harry agreed, actively starting to kick. "I will!"

Snape gave him one last hard set of smacks on his upper thighs, setting the lad crying fully, and then set down the slipper. "And will you also stop blaming yourself for what is not your fault?" he asked firmly. "If not, I will be happy to continue."

"I will t-try not t-to," Harry answered, crying fully now.

"Alright then," Snape told him. "Your punishment is concluded, then."

"He's really g-gone," Harry cried, still laying across Snape's lap like a wet rag. "He's g-gone."

"Yes, he is," Snape confirmed in a soft voice, placing his hand on the lad's back in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

"It's not fair!" Harry sobbed, still not moving.

"No, it's not," Snape agreed. "It is quite unfair. Unfortunately, the Dark Lord rarely takes our preferences into account."

. . .

 _The boy lay curled up on the floor of his room, panting from the pain and the exertion. The police officer was right in that his father had used the strap, but he doubted that the officer thought that he would turn it around halfway through the beating and use the buckle end of it. The officer had left, grimacing at the awkward and ugly boy cowering before his rum-smelling father, forcing himself not to care. And now that boy knew was all over welts, cuts and bleeding. He could feel the magic in his body trying to heal the damage, but he knew that it would be weeks before he could stand a shirt without pain. He'd been beaten like this before, though rarely had it had been quite this bad._

 _To his surprise, he heard the sound of his door opening. His stomach lurched in fear, was his father back for another round?_

 _"I have medicine, Severus," the voice said quietly, setting the boy's heart at ease. "He's gone off to get more drink. Are you alright?"_

 _"I've been better," he replied dryly, though was secretly quite happy that she was able to come. If she had the opportunity and the inclination to heal him he was always much better off._

 _"Get on the bed and take your shirt off," she told him, not wanting to risk magic. "I made a bit of salve last week."_

 _"Ready for my welcome home from school for the summer?" he asked, his voice dryly sarcastic as he obeyed her. Then, more seriously, he said, "Thank you."_

 _"You know better than to antagonize him," she lectured, smearing the pearlescent salve over the oozing cuts. "He really did a number on you this time. I'm sorry I have only the salve, I daren't use my wand as well."_

 _"The buckle was a bit painful," the boy admitted, wincing as she touched the cuts but grateful as the cooling salve began the healing process._

 _"You only have a few years until you can be free," she told him, concentrating on the cuts. "Please, just survive now and get away from this place."_

 _Snape gave a bitter smile that his mother missed in her work. That had been his plan – it had always been his plan. But that was until his world came crashing down around him at the foolishness – no, he wouldn't think of that now. How a cruel world could sever a friendship, and how a mistake could not be taken back. He would not think of her now, the girl that gave him hope and softness in his harsh world. The girl that now hated him._

 _"Stealing, though," she told him, wiping her fingers off as she finished the salve. "I'm not sure you didn't deserve at least a bit of the strap for that."_

 _The boy had to agree, but not about the stealing. In that moment of clarity, he wondered if he had even courted the punishment to make himself feel as if he'd paid for something, as if the pain of his body could pay for the pain he had caused his friend. He had longed for absolution. But now he knew the truth – the pain was just pain, and it changed nothing. The only way to deal with the pain was to occlude it, to make himself hard and to not feel it._

 _"I'm leaving now," she told him. "It wouldn't do to be caught here. Get some sleep."_

 _The boy nodded, though he knew sleep was the last thing he would be getting on this night._

. . .

Snape found himself comforting the grieving boy, and he felt for certain that this was now grief. Somehow Harry had crawled up onto his lap, and he found himself holding the boy and rocking slightly in the age-old and unconscious manner of a parent.

"He's gone," Harry sobbed into Snape's robes.

"It's very sad," Snape told Harry. "But he knew what he was doing. He gave me the information to clear you when he knew there was a possibility that he might be killed. I believe, in the end, he saw his sacrifice for you as an act of love."

"I don't want anybody to die for me!" Harry declared.

"Again, not your fault," Snape told him. "You don't get to decide how other people give up their lives and what they feel is important enough to do it for. I think that if you'd asked him how he would have liked to have died, dying protecting you would be one of the best."

"Really?" Harry sniffed.

"He was not my favorite person," Snape admitted. "But anybody could see that he cared about you."

"Life wasn't very fair for Sirius," Harry sniffed again, resting his head against Snape much to the Potion Master's surprise. "Lost his friends, imprisoned, kills someone to protect me, and then uses himself as distraction to get me away."

"Life has also not been fair to you," Snape told him. "Nor to me either. Life has much less to do with fair, but how we handle the adversary."

"The same with the Dark Lord," Harry agreed. "Is that why I was able to kick him out of my head?"

"Tell me more about that," Snape encouraged.

"Well, he was in there, and he wanted to hurt me," Harry admitted. "I could feel it, he was going to kill me, and he was taunting me about it. I tried what you had taught me, in occluding. But he tore through it like I had built it from tissue paper. And then, well, then I thought about the best revenge. He had tried to kill me as a baby, and the Dursleys tried their best to squash me after this. But I got the best revenge, you know? I do have a happy life with you, my friends, and with school. But why did that drive him out of my head? When I thought of good things he couldn't really stay in my head at all."

"I have never seen anybody throw off the Dark Lord's possession," Snape admitted, unconsciously wrapping his arms around the boy on his lap. "When I saw his intention, I didn't believe that there was anything anybody could do to save you. Imagine my astonishment when you commanded him out of your body."

"By then I knew he was weakened. I just had to get him out," Harry explained. "I think he was weakened when I thought of the good things in my life."

"Then it would appear that you did find the best revenge," Snape told him. "No amount of anger or hate would have helped you; it was you embracing your good life that made your soul so inhospitable to the Dark Lord that he couldn't stay there. He simply couldn't abide the feelings of love that you have. He found no purchase in your soul for him, and so you were able to force him out."

"So I did get revenge after all," Harry said, his sniffing slowing to an occasional hitch.

"You did," Snape affirmed. "I hope you're proud of yourself for it; I find myself very proud of you."

The End

* * *

 _AN: Thank you so much for being with me on this journey. I know the ending was pretty warm and squishy, but I think they deserved some squishiness. I'm not thinking of a sequel at this time, I'm waiting for the muse to strike to see what project I'll start next. There will be an epilogue, however._


	23. Chapter 23 - Epilogue

"Please state your name and position for the record," the aged wizard told him kindly.

"Severus Snape, Professor and Potions Master at Hogwarts," he replied easily.

"We have viewed the letter and the pensieve memory provided by you about Sirius Black and the murder of Undersecretary Delores Umbridge," the head stated. "And we have read your sworn statement of how you obtained it and what happened to Mr. Black shortly after his confession to you."

"I am gratified to have been of help," Snape answered smoothly.

"We still have questions, however," she continued. "So much of this makes no sense."

"I am happy to answer questions as I am able," he answered calmly. "But I cannot pretend to make sense of it either."

"So your sworn statement said that Sirius Black was about to confront the Dark Lord, and he confessed to you."

"I believe he was trying to protect Harry Potter," Snape answered, nodding. "He indicated that he was remorseful that Mr. Potter had been suspected, and was trying to rectify that."

"But why did he do it in the first place?" another person asked. "And how did he get into the room?"

"I do not pretend to understand the motives of a madman," Snape answered. "I believe the years at Azkaban deranged him. I'm not sure of the details of how he got in, either; that was not part of the memory."

"Why would he betray the Potters and then protect their son?" another person asked. "That makes no sense at all."

"Again, he was mad," Snape answered. "But it does bring to mind questions that I've always had regarding Mr. Black. There was never a trial, and I wonder if he was indeed guilty of what sent him to Azkaban for in the first place."

"You dare question this tribunal?" the head asked.

"I would never dream of doing that," Snape answered in a soothing voice. "I know that at the time even Dumbledore believed him guilty. But the fact that he sacrificed himself like that for Harry, well, it just makes me wonder."

"He killed Peter Pettigrew!" someone protested amongst excited murmurs.

"Or at least his finger," Snape conceded. "A rather non-vital part."

"Are you saying that Peter Pettigrew killed the Potters and then framed Sirius Black?" the person continued.

"I would just like to say that given the actions of Mr. Black towards Mr. Potter we have to at least entertain the possibility."

"He is your ward now, isn't he?" a woman from the back interrupted. "Harry Potter? I just received a note that you have been granted permanent guardianship."

"Yes, that's true," Snape answered with aplomb, even though secretly he was cursing having to publicly acknowledge that fact.

"Does the fact that you're his guardian influence your feelings towards Sirius Black?" someone else asked.

"Mr. Black and I had a very . . . non-friendly relationship in school," Snape acknowledged with what he hoped came off as thoughtfully. "I believe I would be the last person to develop feelings of friendship towards Mr. Black. However, that doesn't change the fact that it seems obvious to me that he was likely wrongfully imprisoned and, in the resulting madness, killed and then died trying to protect Harry Potter."

"We are off point," someone else interrupted. "Professor Snape is here to give a recounting of facts to us, not to regale us with speculation. Now, Professor do you know nothing of his motive?"

"It is possible that he may have been motivated when he discovered the use of the black quill upon Harry Potter's person on three different occasions by Professor Umbridge. The third time was shortly before the murder."

"The black quill?" the questioner gasped along with excited chatter over the assembled body. "Do you have proof?"

"I have my own memories, and that of Auror Shacklebolt," Snape feined surprise. "I find myself at all astonishment that this isn't established fact with this body because I thought the use of the black quill was largely the reasoning behind thinking that Harry was the murderer."

"It seems that not every detail made it to our evidence folders," one of the leaders said diplomatically while shooting a glare at Minister Fudge. "We shall have to have an internal examination on why we didn't receive this information."

"I believe Professor Umbridge felt that she had . . . latitude in her dealings with Mr. Potter as he said some very inconvenient things in class, things such as the return of the Dark Lord that we know know as fact," he said with clear vindication for his ward, though he managed to come off as thoughtful.

"Internal investigations aside," another wizard interrupted. "Back to the facts of this inquiry. Now, Professor, could you please go over with us again the circumstances in which Black confessed to you?"

And so the questioning continued, with Snape giving his answers carefully and thoughtfully as him and Dumbledore had crafted. His goals had been to suggest doubt as to Sirius' guilt for the death of the Potters, make trouble for Fudge and hopefully open an inquiry that would lead in his downfall, and to reinforce that the Dark Lord had indeed returned. Everything else was just a game of trying not to give too much away.

Once in the hallway of the courts, though, he was surprised to feel the warm summer breeze of a certain young Gryffindor Occlumens try and get past his barriers.

"Nice try," he told her, mentally slapping her back.

"Keeping you on your toes," she answered, approaching him with a completely fearless smile. Since when had he become Pomona Sprout?

"Harry tell me he will be staying with you this summer," she told him.

"Only after his obligatory stint at this relatives," Snape acknowledged. "Where I will be staying with him. I've already altered his quarters to have a rudimentary potions lab and a direct floo link to my residence should I need anything. That should reduce the shenanigans he got up to last summer."

"I'm sure he will behave himself," she smirked at him. "I'm glad to see that you are acting in such a parental role with him."

"Hmph," he answered, setting a brisk pace away from the courtroom.

"I wanted to ask you what you thought about my progress in Legilimency this summer," she asked, nearly running to keep up with the long-legged Potions Master. "Do you have any books you want me to read?"

Sighing, Snape stopped and whipped around so quickly Hermione had to pull herself up short to avoid crashing into him. _Here was as good a place as any_ , he reasoned.

He handed her a pamphlet with still, muggle illustrations on it. "You will give this to your mother," he told her. "It talks about resources for women in her situation. Until the time she acts upon it, however, here is a potion. It's a modified Draught of Peace, three drops a day will render the person completely incapable of violence."

"Thank you," Hermione accepted the items, her face pink with embarrassment but also hopeful.

"I should warn you that the formulation is intended for muggles, it doesn't work as well on magical folk."

"Why would you develop a potion like that for muggles?" she asked, wondering.

"I didn't develop that, unfortunately, until nearly at the end of my Hogwarts career," he told her, his voice softer. "I wished I had had it sooner."

Hermione's eyes grew round, and more of Snape's story fit into place for her. "Your father was a muggle," she acknowledged.

"It is tasteless and undiscoverable in food and drink," he told her briskly. "And Dumbledore is also routing a floo network from your house to wherever my summer residence will be at the time. I expect you and Mr. Weasley every afternoon at 2 pm for Occlumency lessons, and any other special training that I deem necessary."

"Thanks Professor!" she told him enthusiastically. "That's brilliant!"

"Yes, well we never know what's coming," he grumpily told her. "I felt is was best that you three are prepared."

* * *

 _AN: Thank you so much everyone for your patience and encouragement through this story, it has meant the world to me. I felt like this story should end with Hermione, as she had so much involvement with how Snape finally ended up parenting Harry. I'm going to take a bit of a break for a few weeks probably and then start something knew. Story ideas and suggestions are very welcome, and unfortunately I can't do them all, but often they will spark an idea for me. Otherwise, happy summer to those of us in the Northern Hemisphere!_


End file.
